Chapter Twelve

Σὺν Ἀθηνᾷ καὶ χεῖρα κίνει¹

The Great Hall of the Palace of the Morning Star was awe-inspiring, even for one who had grown up on Mount Olympus. Easily the size of a large stadium, the hall rose eight stories into the air, topped with a massive series of frescoes depicting the start of the rebellion in Heaven, the attack of the rebel angels, the fall of Lucifer and his cadre, and the establishing of the Kingdom of Hell. If an observer didn’t know better, she would have thought the frescoes looked like they could have been Michaelangelo’s work; if she thought further about it, she would realize with shock that this was because they were Michaelangelo’s works. And what works they were! Compared to them, the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel looked rather drab; Michaelangelo had labored two hundred years on this ceiling, or perhaps two thousand; time has no real meaning in Hell.

The hall itself was astonishing, decorated in chandeliers that blazed forth with constant cold fire, illuminating statues and monuments aplenty to the angels who had rebelled, and to Hell’s best agents on Earth. The obsidian columns that supported the great ceiling were crowned in gold, and silver stripes two feet wide bordered the main walkways into and out of the chamber. It was more opulent than Olympus, or Yhwh’s palace in Heaven, but then, Lucifer had always been rather keen on proving his worth.

The most shocking thing to Eros would have been seen as almost mundane to the casual observer. Halfway through the hall, columns arranged themselves into a rotunda the size of a football pitch. The ceiling here rose over a hundred meters to a domed ceiling painted with the morning sky, a single star blazing forth in the east, right above the purplish-red of sunrise. Well, not a star; not exactly.

The star’s identity was given by the gold symbol inlaid in a platinum circle on the floor of the rotunda. It was a symbol that Eros knew well:

♀

His mother’s symbol, the symbol of Venus. He hadn’t thought of it before, but it was Lucifer’s symbol, too: the symbol the planet Venus, the symbol of the Morning Star.

He and Virgil stopped right at the point where the cross of the symbol met the O, for two figures had entered the rotunda from the other side.

They were two demons. One was clearly a minor functionary, off to the side, carrying parchment; he did not draw attention. No, Eros’s attention was drawn by the other figure, another demon, and a high-ranking one at that. He wore black vestments trimmed in red, and an ostentatious robe made of peacock feathers. He wore a heavy medallion on a gold crest bearing the open-pentagram Seal of Satan. The demon leaned his bulky upper body on an exquisitely fashioned copper cane

The functionary cleared his throat, and said, “May I present His Excellency, Polymitis Adramelech, Chancellor of Hell, President of the Senate, High Councilor to Shaitan Lucifer Iblis.”

The Chancellor smiled. “Hello, son,” he said.

“Hello, Hephaestus,” Eros replied.

* * *

The nightmare was all-consuming. Marbas was assaulting Stephanie, raping her. But Adam was his tiny self, and though he tried over and over to stop Marbas from defiling his wife, Marbas simply swept him aside each time as an afterthought. Adam screamed in fury, and rose again, and again, and again….

His eyes popped open. He heard a sound, a rustling, scratching sound. He rose gingerly, body feeling fine, but soul still wounded from Tanith’s assault the afternoon before.

“Hello?” he called into the empty lab. The room was dark, save for a safety light in the corner. He shrugged. Must be hearing –

No, there it was again, a scuffling, scampering noise from the floor. He put his ear to the bars, and tried to listen, tried to hear what it was.

He screamed and jumped backward as the monster leaped up onto the counter top, and ambled over toward his cage. It was a rat, a giant, black rat the size of two bears.

Adam rushed to the middle of the cage, eyes wide. He had to hope the beast wouldn’t pay him attention, because there was no way he could fight the beast. No way. He just had to hope the creature wouldn’t be interested in him, or at least, that it wouldn’t be able to break into his cage.

His first hope was immediately dashed, as the rat snorted, and looked around the side of the cage, moving quickly toward the cage door. Adam watched in horrified fascination; the beast almost seemed to be looking with intelligence, as it reached out with its paw for the latch.

Adam’s stomach sank. He wondered if this was one of Marbas’s tests; it seemed impossible that a rat could be fumbling with the latch of a cage, but then, it seemed impossible that his penis could be still attached after a hundred-foot-tall woman had mashed it to a pulp, and yet it seemed perfectly fine. Nothing was impossible.

His very existence was proof of that.

The creature had the latch undone now. Adam swallowed. If this creature came into the cage, he was done for. Rats are vicious omnivores, and if this one attacked him, he would die. He couldn’t watch. He closed his eyes, and a prayer danced through his head, one he hadn’t said since he was a child.

Now I lay me down to sleep…

And now it was opening up the door, and Adam was sure this was it; he could not fight off the rat, and he would not survive its attack.

…I pray the Lord my soul to keep….

But maybe, maybe, maybe that was for the best. He heard the creature move through the door.

…should I die before I wake….

He would be released from this hell. He could wait for Stephanie in the afterlife, or wait for her in the deep and silent dark; either was better than this.

…I pray the Lord my soul to take.

He could smell the creature’s rancid breath on him, and he was at peace.

Amen.

He waited for it to strike.

He waited.

He waited.

After what seemed like forever, he opened his eyes. The beast was gone. It had been his imagination. Maybe a dream. Or a hallucination. Probably a hallucination. He was going crazy. So crazy that a few feet distant, it still looked like the door was open.

Wait – what?

He stared it down, daring it to close on him, but the door to his cage stood resolutely open.

He walked over, climbed up to it, and stuck his head out. The rat was gone. But it had opened up the cage.

He wondered, idly, if this qualified as a miracle.

Deciding he didn’t care, he swung himself out the door and onto the counter. He would have to move fast. Morning would be here all too soon, and he was determined to be far from here by the time Marbas and company returned.

He didn’t know if he’d survive. He was less than three inches tall. And the world was four times as big as it had been when it had been already too big for him to negotiate alone. But he didn’t care. At worst, he’d win the most important victory. He’d die free. And God willing, he’d at least find a way to let Stephanie know that he died free.

* * *

“Anansi is a swing vote,” Mami Wata patiently explained to Aphrodite. “And he will be your most cunning questioner. He owns all the stories, you know. He has a smoother tongue than Loki and Lucifer could ever dream of. Be on your guard when he speaks, but answer him truthfully.”

“What do you mean, he owns all the stories?” Aphrodite said, jotting a note down absently.

Mami Wata smiled. “You know the story of how Anansi freed the stories from Nyame, do you not?”

“I know he’s a Storytelling God and a Trickster God, but I’ve never crossed his path; I do not know his story.”

Mami Wata smiled wider. “Good. For this will be a story you should hear. It will help you, if you listen carefully. Indeed, even had you known the story, I would have told this to you, before the trial.”

The Goddess of Beauty cleared her throat, and began:

We do not really mean, we do not really mean that what we are about to say is true. A story, a story; let it come, let it go.

Once, Nyame, the Sky-God, owned all the stories. He was a jealous god, and he would not share his stories with anyone. One day, Kweku Anansi went to Nyame to see what it would cost him to buy the stories.

Nyame did not wish to share his stories, and so he set a very high price. Anansi would have to bring to the Sky-God the Python, Onini; the Leopard, Osebo; the Mmoboro Hornets; and the dwarf Mmoatia.

Anansi wanted the stories for himself, and so he went to collect his payment to Nyame. He went first to where the Python lived.

“I wonder,” Anansi said to himself, “If it is true what Aso says, that Onini is as long as the palm branch. I do not think he is; I think the palm branch is larger than he.”

Hearing this, Onini came out to challenge Anansi. “I am larger than the palm branch, foolish spider,” the Python said.

“Prove it,” Anansi said. “Lie along this palm branch.”

The Python lay along the branch. Anansi clucked his tongue. “I cannot tell – you are too crooked, Onini! Let me tie you to the branch to straighten you out. Then I can tell for sure.”

Anansi tied Onini to the branch, and when the Python was secure, he took the Python to Nyame.

“Impressive. But you have three more gifts to bring,” Nyame said, “before I will give you the stories.”

Anansi next went to collect Osebo, the Leopard. He dug a pit near Osebo’s home, and covered it with leaves. Osebo soon fell into the hole, and Anansi went to the edge.

“Are you all right, Osebo?” Anansi asked, innocently.

“All right? I’m trapped in a hole, you foolish spider!”

“Ah, ah, Osebo! Insults will get you nowhere. But if you flatter me, perhaps I can spin webs for you, that you may climb out.”

And so Osebo flattered Anansi, calling him the wisest and kindest of all the creatures. And Anansi spun webs for Osebo to climb out of the hole. But when the Leopard got to the top, he found that he was thoroughly tangled in the spider’s webs. Anansi then brought Osebo to Nyame.

“Impressive. But you have two more gifts to bring,” Nyame said, “before I will give you the stories.”

Anansi next went to find the Hornets. He took a calabash – the bottle gourd – from a vine, and filled it with water. He poured water over a banana leaf, which he held over his head. He then poured some on the hornets’ nest.

“What are you doing, spider?” the Hornets demanded.

“It is raining! Such a rain as I have never seen! I have come to warn you, and to help you to safety.”

“Noble Anansi, thank you! What shall we do?” the Hornets asked.

“Quickly, into the calabash! It is thicker than your hive, it will protect you!”

And when all the hornets had flown into the calabash, Anansi sealed it, and brought it to Nyame.

“Impressive. But you have one more gift to bring,” Nyame said, “before I will give you the stories.”

Anansi then went to the odum tree where the dwarves play, and fashioned a baby doll from tar, straw, and gum. In front of the baby doll, he placed a succulent yam.

Mmoatia came along presently, and ate some of the yam. “This is excellent!” the dwarf said to the doll. “Thank you for it!”

The tar-baby said nothing.

“Did you not hear me? I said that this was excellent! And I thanked you!”

The tar-baby said nothing.

Annoyed at the tar-baby’s bad manners, Mmoatia struck the doll, but found her hand stuck.

“Grabbed me, did you? I will show you!”

And so Mmoatia struck and grabbed and wrestled with the doll, until what was tar and what was gum and what was straw and what was Mmoatia was all mixed up and stuck together. And with the dwarf immobilized, Anansi took her to Nyame.

The Sky-God was angry. He made it thunder, he made it rain. He called on the wind to blow, and he bellowed with rage. But he had no choice; Anansi had met Nyame’s demands. And so the Sky-God gave the tales to the God of Tricks, and that is why, ever since, we call stories Anansesem – Anansi Stories.

This is my story which I have related. If it be sweet, or if it be not sweet, take some elsewhere, and let some come back to me.

Aphrodite was quiet some time, before saying, “Well, if you wanted to teach me that Anansi is a devious bastard, you’ve done that.”

“That is half of what you should learn,” Mami Wata said. “The other half – you will figure it out.”

* * *

“It is a shame,” said Hephaestus, as they walked deep into palace, “that you could not have been here for my induction. It was a party for the ages. Why, I imagine your mother and you could have had a very good time. Why, there was this one satyr –”

“How long?” Eros asked, tersely.

“Oh, a foot at least, maybe –”

“Not that, demon scum. How long have you been working with The Adversary?”

Hephaestus chuckled. “Ah, still as direct as ever. If you must know, it’s been several centuries now, though most of my work was as a consultant. Wasn’t until Ba’al Adar-malik decided to retire that Lucifer asked me to come on in my current role, though, and that was just a few years ago; by your lights, I’ve only officially been on the job for three months, though of course, I’ve been part of the Senate of Hell for seventy years.

“But really, did you come all this way just to curse me? Come on, Eros. You know damn well that you’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?” Eros said, stopping. Virgil put up a warning hand, but Eros ignored it.

“Jealous. You know how much power a demon has. It’s more than a quasi-retired Greek God. I’m more powerful than I’ve been since before your mother first cheated on me; I’m more powerful than Zeus is, now.”

“Your power is in service to evil,” Eros said. “I choose to work on behalf of love.”

“Ha!” Hephaestus said. “’Love.’ Right. But you know all too well that your work with hot, man-on-man action would have been considered ‘evil’ just a few decades ago. Your work in making women all hot and bothered about men is considered anathema to the good, virginal way girls are supposed to be. And don’t tell me you’ve never been involved in separating a man from his wife, or a woman from her husband?

“Good and evil are cute labels. But you and I both know that there is only chaos and order, and that what is evil and what is good change like women’s hemlines.”

Eros stewed. But what Hephaestus said next sent him into a rage.

“You could join us, son,” Hephaestus said, calmly.

“I’m not your son!” Eros roared.

“Yes, you are,” Hephaestus and Virgil said, together.

“No,” Eros said evenly, to Virgil, “I’m Ares’s son.”

“Biologically, yes,” said Virgil. “At least, if Gods had DNA, he’d come up as the father. But Hephaestus raised you, did he not?”

“As my own son,” Hephaestus said. “I ignored your mother’s betrayal and set out to raise you as my own.” He gestured the pair through a door.

“And yet you betrayed my mother as casually as you claim she did. And for what?”

“For Me, of course,” said a voice from behind them.,

Eros turned, and saw a thin man approaching them. He was ruddy, with a neatly trimmed goatee and jet-black hair that was slicked back, wearing a pin-striped black suit, and a black shirt with a brilliant red tie, which matched perfectly the red rose in his lapel. He was, Eros thought, beyond handsome; the demon that confronted him was beautiful.

“Hello there,” the demon said pleasantly. “I am Lucifer Iblis. Welcome to Hell.”

* * *

Adam had never been a lucky man, not even before he started shrinking. His successes had come through hard work. Yes, he’d struck gold with Stephanie – but he had always figured she was fate’s great equalizer.

But today – today, Adam’s luck was bordering on the miraculous. He’d quickly found a power cord leading from the countertop to the ground, rappelled down an extension cord, and then, to his delight, he found the door to the lab sitting slightly ajar.

He dashed out into the small building, finding what appeared to be a largely abandoned front office – a few desks had some signs of life, but most lacked chairs and computers. He shook his head; he wondered if anything Marbas had done to him was in the pursuit of information, or if the bastard was simply into torture, and thought a three-inch man would be easily tortured.

But he shelved that debate for the moment, as he wound his way closer and closer to the window that bordered the office’s front door. That door was wooden, and not ajar, but he was less than three inches tall, and the door lacked weather stripping; by getting down on his stomach and wriggling, he was able to just slip under it, and out into the tiny foyer that led to another door, this one clear glass, that led to the outside world.

And there he had waited, coiled like a spring, ready for what surely had to come next.

* * *

“So! I trust your journey here was enjoyable? Kudos, Virgil, for taking Eros on the long way; it is the best way to approach this fair kingdom.”

The Adversary had invited them into His office. It was furnished entirely in clean, modern, Scandinavian-style furniture – exquisite in its simplicity. A cheery fire flickered along the wall by where they sat; Satan had directed them to a set of couches and comfortable chairs, rather than the desk in the corner of the room.

“Can I get either of you anything to drink? Virgil, some wine? Lord Eros, some ouzo? Or maybe a cosmopolitan? I understand you’ve come to like those.”

“No, thank you, Shaitan.”

“Please, call me Lucifer. Titles are so stuffy; I mean, certainly, they’re useful in keeping the rabble in line, but you and I are both Gods, and Virgil – well, he’s been here before; he’s a welcome guest. You’re sure you won’t take a drink? I, myself, am going to have a scotch. And I know Hephaestus will be drinking his customary ouzo. Please, gentlemen, I insist.”

“All right,” Eros said, “I’ll take some red wine.”

“As will I,” said Virgil.

“Excellent,” said The Adversary, turning to an imp who had appeared suddenly at his side. “Two glasses of the 1945 Château Mouton Rothschild for our guests, Ouzo Giannatsi for the Chancellor, and I will have the 40-year-old Laphroaig, neat, with water on the side.”

“Very good, sir,” the imp said, vanishing just long enough to reappear with a tray carrying four drinks.

“So, Eros, I assume you’re here to ask why it is that I felt the need to divert the subject of your mother’s bet,” Lucifer said, taking a sip of the tarry Islay scotch.

“Yes,” said Eros, warily. “I mean, it does create some problems in resolving the wager between my mother and Hephaestus.”

“A matter which is, of course, before the Council of Thirteen; I assume you are not planning to interfere on your mother’s behalf? To try to influence the result in any way? After all, that would be in violation of the Deeper Laws.”

“Certainly, no more than you have, Lucifer,” Eros said.

That brought a mirthful laugh from the Prince of Darkness. “Indeed! I suppose I walked right into that one, didn’t I? Yes, I suppose waylaying Adam White has had the effect of interfering in this particular wager, although of course, I am not a party to that wager, and I am not working on the Chancellor’s behalf. My interests are separate from the matter they are investigating.”

“Well then, as someone not working on my mother’s behalf, and not a party to that wager, may I ask what those interests are? And find out if we can get this resolved, so that Adam can get home to his wife before he vanishes into nothingness?”

“‘Nothingness?’ Tsk, tsk, Eros, you know full well that Mr. White will not vanish. What was the line from that work by Matheson? Ah, yes – zero is just a number. There are worlds beyond zero. White will slip deeper and deeper into the infinite smallness – at least until he starves to death, or suffocates. I wonder which will happen first?”

Eros sighed, and looked over at Vigil for help. The poet added, quietly, “Lucifer, my friend is speaking metaphorically, of course, but he is right in this: once Adam drops below a threshold height – say, a millimeter or two – the larger world becomes utterly alien to him. As does his wife.”

“And that is a problem, I suppose, because he won’t be able to get to have a teary, heartfelt moment where he can tell his wife goodbye? Or better still, that miraculous recovery where everything is okay and our friends enjoy a happy ending?”

“Well, yes,” said Eros.

“I see. Now, first of all, please don’t take this the wrong way, as you are always welcome here in Hell, and I would gladly meet with a fellow deity any day, for no reason whatsoever; still, I must ask why you felt it was so important to travel here to ask about such a triviality?”

Eros looked at the Dark Lord, nonplussed, as He continued.

“So Adam will be denied a last good-bye? So Stephanie will not be able to tell her husband she loves him, one last time? Do you know how many thousands of times that will happen in just your reality today? How many husbands will die in car crashes, how many wives will be killed in terrorist bombings, how many soldiers will die on the battlefield, removed from their loved ones? How many people will slip away unconscious, unable to speak, unable to communicate? I suppose it is sad, in a way, but it is not a matter that should concern you particularly.

“As for miraculous recoveries, they happen. But rarely. They are miraculous, after all. And while I understand your mother would like the Whites to have one, ask your mother how many Trojan soldiers died in agony, apart from their spouses, with naught but Hades as their reward?Not that I’m criticizing, I Myself am not opposed to a bit of sorrow; sorrow is good. It’s my job.”

Eros shook his head. “You don’t have to spread evil in this case,” he started, but Lucifer cut him off.

“Spread evil? You mean, like supporting sodomites as they fall deep in lust with each other? Supporting virgins as they throw themselves at their boyfriends, befouling themselves? Supporting people as they stray from their partners, in search of the perfect lay? All these things ’spread evil,’ to use your words. And yet that is your job, is it not, Eros? Spreading lust for men, just as your daughter spreads lust for women?”

“It is,” Eros said, shifting uncomfortably. “But I also support the two men getting married after forty years together. I support the girlfriend giving herself happily to her boyfriend, their bond growing deeper. I support the partners so deeply in love and lust that they wouldn’t stray if my entire family appeared at their door, naked and willing.”

“Just so; your work is neither good nor evil. It is neutral. You provide the spark, the momentary attraction, the passing glimpse, the appeal to ardor. What is done with it is up to the human who experiences it.

“And this is what I do, Eros. I do not spread evil; I spread sorrow. I support despair. I support, yes, lies. But I do so not in support of evil. Sorrow can motivate one to avoid repeating mistakes. Despair can be transcended into resolution. Lies can be crafted into beautiful stories. You and I are not different, Eros. We do what we do, and the humans – the humans make their own decisions as to what it means.”

“And yet in this case, Lucifer, you’ve diverted Adam White yourself, for your own needs. Why?”

Lucifer smiled. “A fair question. Let’s just say your mother doesn’t know her own strength. Adam White’s transformation is not a minor, one-off miracle; it is power that I do not possess. I am curious about it, as is Marbas; after all, he had not come up with this in seven thousand years of research, and he’s…well, a bit embarrassed.”

“So why not just ask Aphrodite for some tips? Why all this?”

“Like your mom would help Lucifer,” said Hephaestus. “She’s got the same prejudice that you have, thinks Satan is evil personified, that if he gets hold of this, he’ll use it for nefarious goals.”

“Well, will You?”

Satan smiled. “Of course not,” he said.

Eros fought down the chortle. “All right,” said Eros. “Tell you what – you release Adam White, I’ll set up a meeting for you with Aphrodite. You can talk to her directly. I have a feeling she’ll be amenable – she feels like she’s really hurt Adam and Stephanie, and she wants to put things right.”

“And then your mother will happily help Me with My project. Oh, Eros, isn’t it pretty to think so? No, I’m sorry, I don’t generally make deals with Gods, and in this case, Mr. White’s release, and the subsequent publicity that would inevitably follow, would compromise certain of My operations on Earth. I’m sorry to say that I can’t do that. Mr. White will die in captivity. But he’s just a volitional; it is his fate to live and die at the whim of the gods – something your mother you and your mother used to understand.”

Before Eros could respond, the imp appeared at Lucifer’s elbow again, this time with a piece of paper, which he handed to the Prince of Darkness. Lucifer took the paper, and read it, and his eyebrows shot up.

“Well, well,” he said. “Thank you,” he said, handing the paper back to the imp, who vanished again. Lucifer fixed Eros with a formulated gaze. “It appears I will have to cut this meeting short. Something is occurring on Earth which requires my attention.

“Gentlemen, it’s lovely that you came to visit. Don’t be strangers. And I assume you’ll be at the hearing before the Council, Eros?”

“I will be,” Eros said, rising as Satan did.

“Good. I’ll see you there. And we will have a few things to discuss,” And abruptly, Hell dissolved, and Eros and Virgil were standing back on the beach of the God-Teachers’ Guild.

“What happened?” said Eros, puzzled.

“Well,” Virgil began, but Eros cut him off.

“Ouranos’s balls, that was useless! We got nothing, other than that The Adversary wants to know what my mom is up to, and that he doesn’t want to let Adam White go.”

“Exactly,” said Virgil. “And that is enough, is it not?”

Eros started to object, but stopped himself. It was. It told him he was right to send Aoibhell to guard Adam. That Lucifer was unwilling to negotiate, and that if He was going to freelance for his own reasons, Eros had a free hand, too. After all, when Adam got home, Stephanie would no doubt want to show her husband affection; it was Eros’s job to see that moment came.

He kissed Virgil on the cheek and promised to return to the God-Teacher’s Guild in the future. Then, with a quick good-bye, he left. He would need to catch up with Aoibheal. Especially if Lucifer was going to.

* * *

Adam scurried across the parking lot, not daring to believe he was actually free.

Tanith had been the one to inadvertently free him – she had put her key in the door and walked right by him, her skirt fluttering in such a way as to show off her clean-shaven legs and her white thong; if Adam had not known that she was evil at her core, he might have been attracted As it was, he paid her beauty no mind, and raced out into the wider world.

He was rushing toward high grass, carefully working his way under the few cars in the parking lot; he had been both amused and terrified to see Tanith race out into the lot, and scan it – but she didn’t see him in the early morning light, and she raced back inside to sound the alarm. A few minutes later, a car pulled up, and Marbas himself had gotten out, accompanied by Andousha; they had begun arguing almost immediately with Tanith, who was gesticulating wildly.

Adam kept moving. He had reached the curb at the edge of the small lot, and he found the concrete had pits and handholds that made it easy for him to reach the edge of the sidewalk. But he knew that he had to find help, witting or unwitting; last time, Andousha had found him, despite having no way of knowing where he was. He knew in his soul that she had not tracked him with her eyes. And so he stood by the sidewalk, praying for a miracle.

When the crow plucked him from the ground and carried him up into the air, high above the ground, he hoped that this was not the end. He hoped that the crow was here to help, like the rat had been. He hoped his prayers had been heard.

And they had.

* * *

From the edge of the parking lot, a Goddess was reaching out with all her powers, blanketing the ground with confusion, with a thousand false positives that would throw the demonic trio off long enough to lose their quarry. Aoibheal chuckled to herself as she watched Marbas and his succubus dissolve into recrimination.

She watched as Aoife plucked Adam with alacrity; the plan was for her to carry Adam a mile or two away, where he would have a chance to make it to safety on his own. More they dared not do; they were interfering quite a bit already. But they could give Adam his chance, and as part of that chance, Aoibheal would have to find a way to delay and distract those who sought him.

And so, as Adam and Aoife flew safely away, she strode into the lot, and headed straight for her enemy.

Marbas saw her, and started; he did not recognize her, but he knew her by her aura. And the instant he saw her, he cursed.

“How dare you interfere with my Master’s operation? How dare you enter this desecrated building?”

“I would not sanctify your halls, demon. I did not enter your building. Adam White escaped from your lair without my assistance.” This was, of course, literally true; the púca had done all the heavy lifting thus far.

“Still, you are interfering with our search. I can tell. You are stretching your powers, Goddess. You are keeping us from seeing.”

“Aye,” Aoibheal said. “I am. You have imprisoned Adam White; I am helping him get away from you. This should not be a surprise to you, as evil is generally countered by good.”

“Is it really?”

That voice surprised Aoibheal, and she wheeled, as Marbas dropped to a knee, and motioned to his minions to do the same.

“Aoibheal of Thomond? Quite a long way from County Cork, are we not?”

“Well,” she said. “Satan Himself. ‘Tis a bit surprising to see you here, Dark Lord. What are you here for, other than to excoriate your underlings?”

“Oh, that is part of the reason for my arrival here; Marbas, I must say I am quite disturbed that a high value target such as this was not monitored constantly.”

“But…my Lord…he was caged, inside a locked laboratory. He could only escape with help….”

“Precisely. And lo and behold, it turns out that when you interfere in a bet between Gods, Gods then feel free to meddle with you. I may not be thrilled to see this young lady here, assisting in confusing and hiding Mr. White, but I am not nearly as angry at her as I am at you. She is merely playing her role. You are failing at yours.”

Marbas looked up at Satan in abject terror. “Please, my Lord…I beg of you, give me a chance to make this right. The investigation…we are close enough that I can complete what I need through trial and error. We need only dispose of White before he makes it to the press – and our presence here will go unnoticed.”

Lucifer smiled thinly. “Well, Marbas, I’m glad to hear this wasn’t a total waste. But no, it is too late; unless I miss my guess, Adam White is already halfway to freedom at this point. No, you will go back to the palace. And you will wait in your chamber for Me. And you had best be right about how close you are to solving this. Because it is the only thing keeping you from being damned.”

Marbas turned white as a ghost, but he nodded, and with a soft pop, he disappeared from the earthly realm.

“Now, as for you, Aoibheal…as I cannot allow Gods to cross me unpunished, I suppose I must take action here. Prepare to stand and defend.”

Aoibheal swallowed hard; she was no match for Satan’s powers. But she prepared to stand and defend, as the ancient laws said she must.

* * *

The crow swooped over the grass, flying lower and lower, until it reached a near stall; it opened its claws, and dropped its quarry onto the ground.

Adam bounced against the ground, and looked as the beast alighted a few feet from him. He stood up, and looked carefully; there was an intelligence in the eyes of the creature, and if he didn’t know better, he’d almost think that it bore a resemblance to the look in the eyes of the rat the night before.

“Thank you,” he said, to the bird. The enormous crow bowed its head, and…Adam swore this was not his imagination…said in a soft Irish brogue, “You are most certainly welcome, Adam. Now, quickly – you are in a place that will afford you a chance to get home, if you take it.”

With that, the bird flew off.

Adam looked up at the building he had been placed outside of. And he realized the crow was right; this would get him home.

He just had to get into the post office which stood not far from him; from there, it was…well, it would still be amazingly difficult. But he would make it home. He would make it home to Stephanie. As God was his witness, he would make it home.

Chapter Eleven

Ου με πείσεις, καν με πείσεις¹

In a well-apportioned mansion in Dublin, an old woman ran a hand idly over her desk. “I do not see how helping an Englishman helps Eire,” she said, finally, “and I see no reason we should interfere.”

Aiobheal sighed inwardly; this conversation was going much as she had feared it might. But she had no choice but to persist; she was not strong enough to free Adam on her own. It had taken some time to gain an audience with the High Queen; The Morrígan would have to help her; if not, she had no time to find someone else.

“Highness, Adam White is not English. He is American.”

“English, English colonist, it matters not. It still has nothing to do with us.”

“He is prisoner of The Adversary, Highness. We have an obligation to fight evil, aye?”

“Aye, we do, but only when it affects an Irishman.”

“His wife is half-Irish, Highness,” said Aoibheal.

This was a lie, at least as far as Aoibheal knew. She knew nothing of Stephanie White’s heritage, and for all she knew Stephanie was a pure-blood descendant of the House of Windsor. But she needed a bit of luck.

“I thought you said she was American,” The Morrígan said, frowning.

“Aye, but how many Americans are Irish? There are more of our sons and daughters in America than in Eire herself, as you well know, Highness. And this daughter of Ireland has had her husband stolen from her in the last days of his life, by the forces of evil incarnate. Are we not to interfere in such a case?”

The High Queen of the Gods of Ireland considered this. “America is our land, sure as Ulster is,” she said, nodding finally. “I do forget sometimes how close Ballycuggaran Woods are to Blarney. All right, I will give you assistance in your efforts, though I cannot go with you.”

“I thank you, Highness,” said Aoibheal.

The Morrígan smiled, emerald eyes flashing. “I wonder, Aoibheal. What you are attempting is dangerous. You will have my sigil upon you, and you will have my most trusted púca at your side. But more I cannot give. I do wish I had no reason to stay on Eire; I do miss battle. But my place is here.”

“Of course,” said Aoibheal.

“I only hope you are successful; you will not be able to luck your way through this, Aoibheal. Not like you did here.”

“Highness?”

“Stephanie White’s maternal and paternal grandmothers both were full-blooded daughters of the Emerald Isle. Her mother’s mother was an O’Brien, which should please you; her father’s mother was a Delaney. You did not know this, but you thought you could deceive me into thinking you did.”

“Highness, I –”

“Do not apologize, Aoibheal. Were I in your shoes, I would have done the same thing. But had what you said been untrue, I would not be helping you. Indeed, I might well be angry enough to interfere, The Adversary be damned – which He is, of course.

“But no matter. Aoife Pwca will be waiting outside to bear you back to America. She is a fine and cunning ally, and she knows of more of transfiguration than anyone in Eire – aside from you. Use her. Free this Adam White. And when all is done, stop by for a pint. Has been too long, my dear.”

“Aye, that it has, Highness,” said Aoibheal. She would have a sigil and a púca. She thought that this was somewhat less than the High Queen could have given her. But she knew better than to complain; The Morrígan had the gift of sight, and she seemed to know better than anyone what would be needed at the moment of crisis. She would have faith. ‘Twas all she could do.

* * *

Adam grimaced in pain as the woman brought her bare behind down on top of him, right-cheek-first, bringing all her weight to bear on his frame. Had the woman been Stephanie, this might almost have been erotic – the smooth skin of the woman yielded almost pleasantly before fat gave way to muscle, and both pushed him into the mattress below, until he was being squeezed on all sides by pain disguised as softness.

Of course, Stephanie, if she did this at all, would have rested her behind lightly on him, leaning forward to keep from crushing him. She would never have deliberately caused him pain. But this was not Stephanie. There was no joy to be found in this, only anguish.

Eight days it had been; at least, he thought it was eight. The hell that he had descended into seemed to have a routine that echoed the real world’s – breakfasts, dinners, lights out for the night – and he thought it was eight times that Dr. Marbas had measured him. The last time, he had proclaimed that Adam was down to 7.6 centimeters – less than half what he’d been when he’d arrived. That was three inches tall, small enough that Adam had doubts he could survive the outside world even if he did manage to escape.

The behind of Tanith pushed down harder, and Adam fought to keep the world from swimming away, as it seemed to more and more; they were not careful with him, not at all. Tanith had been true to her word. She was evil and horrid to him, and far and away the nicest person he encountered. Andousha – the one who had brought him here – seemed to leech his strength each time she was the one who examined him, and while his desire to resist her was no less than his desire to resist Tanith, his ability to resist her was less, leading to the only times he registered shame on Dr. Marbas’s crystals.

He had been brought out of his cage, brought up to her fiery eyes, her hot, sticky breath washing over him, and she had casually said, “You desire me.”

He tried to argue, but she was concentrating on him. And he found himself unable to resist as she slid him down her unnaturally hot skin, between mammoth breasts and down into her shaved womanhood. Leaning him against it, she said, simply, “Now, you will pleasure me.”

He tried to fight this, as he always did, but it was as if his body would not respond to his commands. He wasn’t sure how she was doing this, but he found himself caressing her fat, soft labia, found himself climbing them, in search of the giantess’s nubbin, which he began to kiss and stroke, as she said, “Good. Good!”

She did not seem aroused, but rather amused. He could not stop himself. For almost an hour, he lapped at her, dove deep into her pussy, sucking in the stale, vinegar-sulfur air of her sex. He even explored her anus. He could not resist, even as his mind screamed at him to do so. And as he he serviced her, he began to wonder if perhaps he had wanted this, had wanted to please her with wanton abandon, to find joy in his agony. And that was the moment he felt shame.

When finally she took him back to his cage, too weak to move, Marbas shook his head at her. “Not useful data,” he said, as she handed him the crystal. “There’s a method to this, Andousha. You know that.”

“It wasn’t about the research, Marbas. I have needs. Needs that I have put aside for you. You cannot expect me to ignore them.”

“I can and I do. You have to allow him free will, or we get no good information. I’ll be noting this, and you’ll need to explain your actions to the new Chancellor. In the meantime, please stick with the program. You’ve set us back hours.”

Adam tried to reason this out, and failed. But it assuaged his guilt, and he felt a bit better at the end of it. She had used some trick to rape him. Maybe a drug, or hypnosis. But he hadn’t done it freely. And he felt no shame about being raped; rape isn’t the fault of its victims.

But pain – that he had registered, Over and over again, he registered pain. Marbas was the worst; he had cheerfully suggested that once he hit two inches, he’d be vivisected, because any smaller and Marbas would be unable to see fine detail. Adam wasn’t sure if this was an idle threat; Marbas seemed wholly uninterested in usual scientific measurements, and far more interested in provoking emotional responses in his captive. But he had no doubt that Marbas would not hesitate to vivisect him if it met his needs.

Tanith crushed him and Andousha raped him, but Marbas simply tortured him. The needles…the fry pan…the cat – oh, God, the cat. He frankly wasn’t sure how he was alive after Marbas released the cat to chase him around the enclosure. The cat had toyed with him, batting him about until he blacked out, certain that his arm was missing.

But he always woke up back in his prison, relatively whole except for some stiffness and the rare bandage; Adam couldn’t understand how this could be. Perhaps he was already dead, and in Hell; it couldn’t be worse than this.

And through it all, he missed Stephanie, missed her like mad. Once in a while, to torment him, Marbas would turn on the news, where talking heads were jabbering about how Stephanie probably killed her husband, vilifying her in the worst possible way. This was the worst of his agony, worse than the pain. He could live with the pain, even as it ate at him. But he hated that she was being flogged for something she would never do. He knew she loved him. He wished he could just tell the world he was alive, tell them she didn’t have anything to do with it. He wanted her to have peace and a good life. He would gladly suffer this forever if he could find a way to salvage Stephanie’s reputation.

He tried to have faith that things would work out, that he would live to fight another day. But his faith was wavering. As the world faded out of focus under Tanith’s derrière, Adam found himself simply praying for release. Oblivion would be sweet compared to this.

* * *

Eros awoke first, and careful not to disturb Virgil, walked out of the tent into the Back Beyond.

He could see the dark realm of Hell off in the distance, only an hour’s walk away. It had been frustrating, the long trek here; it felt like it might have taken months, even years, although Virgil assured him it would take no more than a week or two in real terms. Eros had complained many times, wondering why they didn’t simply arrive in Hell as one would arrive anywhere else in the Back Beyond; Virgil smiled shyly, and said that it was the way to show respect to The Adversary, to walk the Road of Good Intentions into Dis, the suburb of Pandemonium. Besides, it gave them time to discuss the protocols of Hell, of which there were many, and the occasional opportunity to fuck, though Virgil had been so shy in first suggesting it that Eros himself had almost missed the pass.

Ah, shy boys. Eros smiled in spite of himself; that part of the trip had indeed been enjoyable. But he put it out of his mind. Today they would enter The Adversary’s realm, and he hoped they would quickly secure a meeting with the Shaitan Himself. If Virgil was right, by the time they returned there would be but a week until the trial, and Adam would be but an inch or two tall. Eros just hoped that Adam had managed to avoid the Adversary’s clutches. If not, all may already be lost.

* * *

“I still don’t understand why Bertrand Russell sits on the Council,” said Aphrodite, digging through her notes. “He isn’t a God.”

“He’s a prophet, and non-theistic religions can be represented by a prophet on the Council, child. You know that. What you need to be focusing on is how to use him to your advantage; he had a very wandering eye in life and would be sympathetic to a Love Goddess in general. You need to use him to bolster your argument.”

“Oh, I will, I understand that. I just don’t understand how atheism gets a seat on the Council. I mean, that’s the one religion that clearly isn’t right in any way.”

“Isn’t it?” said Mami Wata, as she fed Nyoka a squirming rat.

“Mami Wata, be serious.”

“I am, Aphrodite. Deadly serious. We Gods exist because of faith; you know that. Many, many people have faith that there is nothing. They believe in nothing as strongly as your most fervent devotee believes in you. Who are you to tell them they are wrong?”

“Well…I’m a God. My very existence disproves atheism.”

“How do you know? Perhaps there are no Gods, and you and I are just an illusion, a story people tell each other. How do you know you exist? How do you know I do? The reality is complex, an infinite braid of possibility bound with history bound with myth.

“The Maasai say the world was fashioned out of a tree. The Hmong say it was recreated when the King Above the Sky ordered holes punched beneath the world-ocean so water could drain, and things could grow, and the last remaining humans – a brother and sister – married and populated the world. The Shinto believe the world was created when Izanagi and Izanami stirred the ocean with a spear to raise islands of salt, which became Japan. You believe that Chaos begat Gaia – your grandmother, the world. The Christians and Jews believe that Yhwh created the world by speaking the words, “Let there be light,” and there was light, and the light was good. The atheists believe that the universe was created by a vacuum fluctuation, one that led to a rapid expansion of matter and spacetime, an expansion that continues today, one that occurred because of natural processes, with no God or Goddess interfering. And of course, there are as many versions of these stories as can be told, and some of them cross – Christians who think God caused the Big Bang, and so forth.

“You know the secret of this? All of them are right. Every story is true. The world was created by Chaos and by Yhwh and by Izanagi and Izanami and by the King Above the Sky and by nobody at all. All of these stories are true; all are equally valid. Understand that, and you understand what you must argue.”

Aprhodite stared at Mami Wata, slack-jawed. When she found her voice, she said, quietly, “I don’t understand.”

“I know. Few do. But you will. You have to. Enough for today, child. Let us rest.”

* * *

Hell did not look much like Eros had expected it to, and nothing like Virgil had shown Dante. Far from being concentric realms of suffering, Dis appeared to be a reasonably normal town, the kind of bedroom community one might find surrounding any big city anywhere in the world. The houses had a bland sameness to them, but there were hints of individual touches. And there were shops and pubs and clubs and restaurants. Had Eros not known better, he would have thought himself to be in a suburb in Germany, or perhaps France.

“This doesn’t look like the Hell you guided Dante through,” Eros said, as he noted with surprise a shop that sold sex toys and, according to the sign, sexual partners.

“I didn’t show Dante Hell,” Virgil said, quietly, gesturing toward a side street. “I showed him a version of Hell. The version he needed to see and communicate to his fellow man. Oh, we hung a few lampshades. What was Trajan doing in Heaven? Why wasn’t I hanging out with my fellow sodomites? But those were for posterity.

“No, Hell is pretty normal on the surface. It’s not outside of those houses that are horrible; it’s what’s inside them.”

“What’s inside them?” Eros asked.

“It depends on what the soul needs there to be. After all, you know how you end up here, right?”

Eros frowned. “Not really. The afterworld for my followers is Hades, no matter whether you’re good or bad – unless we bump you up to Olympus for some reason, like we did for Heracles.”

“That’s mostly true for all souls, everywhere – each soul is striving for the next level of existence, and each is given many chances to get it right, except for the most evil – they are punished, but not here. Judgment Himself takes care of them. No, nobody is consigned to Hell who does not believe themselves to be consigned to Hell. The souls here are here of their own volition, though they would never believe that.”

“And that’s why there’s no rain of fire, plague of locusts, people frozen in ice?”

“Oh, there are, and some of what I showed Dante was indeed contained in some of these houses – people who are tortured because they want the torture, they need the torture, because they blame themselves more than any God would for the mistakes they made in their volent lives. It’s The Adversary’s most brilliant plan. And the best part is, they torment themselves in exactly the proper way for their need to atone. Some actually torment themselves lightly – just live in the absence of God, go about their business. Those are the souls you see on the street. For them, Hell is not much different than the living world. But for others…no demon can imagine worse torments for humans than humans can. Fortunately, most souls realize this after a century or two, and then they’re released to try again – and often, it turns out Hell helped them after all. Ah, here we go,” said Virgil, gesturing to a taxicab. The doors opened, and a bored-looking demon nodded.

“Where to?”

“The Palace, please.”

The demon nodded as the two men piled into the back, and the car sped off toward Pandemonium.

“Name’s Expositonem. Now, let me see – never forget a face. Virgil, right?”

“Yes,” said the God-Teacher, quietly.

“Thought so. Been centuries, hasn’t it? Nice to see you back in our fair land. And who’s your friend?”

“Um…Eros. Nice to meet you.”

“Eros. Eros. Oh, you’re a God, right? One of the Greek ones?” the demon said. “What’re you doin’ down here? Looking to convert?”

“No, though from what I understand, my stepfather did.”

“Heh. I see. You’re the Chancellor’s kid, right? You stopping by to congratulate him? I mean, he’s the first new Chancellor we’ve had in over a thousand years. Not many openings, you know. But Ba’al Adar-malik was getting tired of the grind; he retired from existence, and the Big Guy wanted someone good, ’specially someone who was a Fire God. Chancellor Hephaestus Adramelech was a perfect fit.”

“That so,” said Eros, noting that the bland suburbs were now receding into an area of urban blight, populated by prostitutes and drug dealers; he sighed. These would be the people who would consign themselves, he thought. But if they could get their fix, even in Hell, at least they could numb the pain away.

“Yeah. Anyhow, you gonna see him while you’re here?”

“Not if I can avoid it,” said Eros. “Actually, we’re here to see The – uh, to see Shaitan Lucifer Iblis.”

“Meh, call him The Adversary. Call it to him to his face – the Big Guy loves it. Once, eight hundred years ago, I was at a party when he showed up, some fallen Muse calls him The Adversary by mistake, the Big Guy laughed like crazy. Says it’s an honor to be thought of as the opposite of the smug, self-righteous bastards that run the universe – no offense.”

“None taken,” said Eros, chuckling.

“Well, he’ll enjoy seeing you. Always enjoys entertaining, y’know. Especially loves when Gods drop by the palace. Loves to see ‘em all surprised when it isn’t filled with wailing and gnashing of teeth. Unless you’re into that sort of thing. You’re a Love God, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I suppose I do,” he said. Eros frowned. He felt something he rarely had felt in all his existence – nervousness. The Adversary was cunning and powerful. Surely He wouldn’t simply tell Eros what He was planning with regard to Adam White.

They drove on in silence for some time until he saw the castle – a massive, onyx-black monstrosity that appeared to take up dozens of city blocks, one that soared hundreds of stories into the sky. It was covered in intricately carved gargoyles. Though the area around it appeared to be a lush, green park, the obsidian walls seemed to reflect the flicker of flames, tall as the building itself.

It was utterly terrifying, and utterly beautiful.

“Takes your breath away, don’t it? I’ll take you to the main entrance – you’re expected, you know. Oh, and before you ask, no charge – the Big Guy wants you to know that he always shows visiting deities His most generous hospitality. He will take care of my remuneration.”

“Please,” said Virgil, slipping a silver coin to the demon, “take this as a token of our esteem; though I appreciate His hospitality, you deserve compensation from us as well.”

“You’re all right, you guys. Okay, here you go. Good luck. You’ll need it.”

And with that, the taxi abruptly vanished, and Virgil and Eros stood at the end of a long, red carpet that led into the gates of the palace, a gate fashioned in the form of a demon’s mouth. Two brigades of demons stood at attention on either side of the carpet, and a biting fanfare in a minor key rang out.

“Damned souls and Demons,” said one demon standing at attention near them, “I present Eros Elutherios, Lust God of the Olympus, and his companion, Demigod Publius Vergillus Maro. All hands, salute!”

With this, each demon in unison beat their chests and held out their hands, fist-first, in an angle eerily reminiscent of the Nazi salute. Eros found it discomfiting, but Virgil simply nodded ahead. And so the two walked through the gauntlet, toward a functionary by the gate. All things considered, Eros though he would take a bit less of Lucifer’s hospitality.

* * *

Adam was blinded by the pain. Marbas was observing while Tanith crushed his genitals with her thumb and forefinger. She worked it over repeatedly, until he was quite certain that whatever was left would be incapable of function; not that it mattered. He simply cried out with each pinch, and Marbas took notes. It was a fairly common routine.

“All right, that’s enough for the moment,” Marbas said, coolly, and Tanith removed her fingers. He sighed. “No closer,” he said, frustrated.

“Why are you doing this?” Adam groaned, not even daring to feel for what was left of his manhood. “Why are you torturing me? What do you hope to find?”

“I have told you,” said Marbas. “The secret to your change.”

“But why do you want it?” Adam said. “So you can torture others as you torture me?”

Marbas laughed, a mirthless, bitter laugh. “There is that, Adam. But I am thinking of the bigger picture. The world is a finite place, and we are running low on resources. What better way to solve those problems than reducing consumption – by reducing people?”

Adam coughed, and winced. “You want to shrink people? And then, what, rule them?”

“Oh, not me. I’m a behind-the-scenes guy. But if I find this secret, I know many well-connected men who will be happy to get their hands on this process. Of course, they would remain full-sized – someone has to. But most people will be reduced, and the world will be a paradise. No more oil shortages, no more food shortages. Think of the joy, Adam, that your pain will cause.”

“No,” said Adam, bitterly. “You’re lying. Nothing you do would be put to good use. You want to enslave people.”

“Oh, Adam, such a lack of vision. Do you not love humanity enough to give them this chance?”

“I love them enough to fight you,” Adam said. “I wouldn’t want this for anyone. I sure as hell don’t want you shrinking Stephanie when I’m gone.”

A slight chiming could be heard from Marbas desk. He looked over at it, and smiled. “I suppose not. You do love Stephanie, don’t you? You would do anything to protect her, right?”

“I do,” Adam said, and through the pain, he focused on her face, her touch, her sweet support, even when he had been at his worst. She had even known when to leave, to force him to make his choice to live or die. She was the best thing that ever happened to him, and he would fight for her. He would never give them what they were looking for.

“We could bring her here, you know.”

Adam opened his eyes, and looked at his tormentor through the tears. “What?”

“We could bring her to you. Let you have your time with her. Let you love her, until you vanish from sight. No more torture – we’ve run enough pain scenarios anyhow. No, you could be with her as you were meant to.”

Adam coughed, and winced again. It was a trick. It had to be. And even if it wasn’t….

“No,” Adam said. “You leave her alone.”

“Hmm. You would not bring her here, even if I promised I would not harm her? Even if I promised that in the New World Order, she would be one of the glorious masters, not one of the hoi polloi?”

“Leave her alone,” Adam said. “Kill me, but don’t touch her.”

“Love. Protectiveness. Caring. Yes, of course. Foolish of me not to realize it immediately. How else would She work?”

He turned back to his prisoner. “All right, Adam. I will leave your Stephanie alone. You have convinced me.”

Adam groaned in agony. But less misery. Stephanie was safe. That would be enough.

“Now,

.אין די נאָמען פון שׂטן, היילן די ווונדז

That should take care of your immediate problems. Rest, Adam White. You have finally given me my answer.”

Adam felt the pulp that was his manhood restore itself, as if it was made of Silly Putty, sliding itself back into position. He did not know what answer he had given Marbas, and for the moment, he didn’t care. All he knew was that the pain, for now, was gone. And with that, he fell fast asleep.

* * *

Aoibheal and Aoife flew over the Atlantic, Aoife in the guise of a great black crow.

“So you tracked him into the midwest?” the crow asked, as Aoibheal crossed the jet stream yet again.

“Aye,” Aoibheal said.

Aoife had been waiting, just as The Morrígan had said, outside the door to her study. She had been in the guise of a beautiful, raven-hared woman, which surprised Aoibheal. Púcas were animals, after all. They could be any animal, but they were always animals.

Aoife had merely smiled, and noted that humans were animals, too. And then she had transformed, and said it was best they were off immediately.

And so it was. Aoibheal had filled her companion in on the story thus far, and Aoife mostly listened, occasionally asking perspicacious questions that established quite clearly her use as an ally. As they approached the office park where Adam was sequestered, Aoife suggested the simplest tactic.

“The easiest way to do this is for me to enter, and you to wait outside,” she said. “Her Highness’ sigil will protect you, but The Adversary’s magic does not affect me as it does you. We are not all good, you know.”

“I know,” said Aoibheal, as they began their descent. “But for that reason, should I not go with you?”

The crow laughed. “I understand why you ask that. Know that I am bound to help you; I am in Her Highness’ service, and I do what she tells me to do. I will do nothing to harm this mission. I promise.”

“Can you get to him alone?”

“I have no idea. But I can try. If I cannot, I will return for you. Hopefully, you will be able to prepare Adam for his journey home.”

“Aye,” said Aoibheal. “For that will be a trick; he will need to believe this was accomplished on his own.”

“Indeed. All right,” the crow said, alighting on the ground. “I can feel that this is the place. I will try the guise of a rat,” she said, instantly becoming a smallish rat with dark black fur. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” said the faerie queen, as she watched the rat scurry toward the building. She had a bad feeling about what was to come. But she began her preparations nonetheless.

Chapter Ten

Χαλεπὰ τὰ καλά (Πλάτων, Πολιτεία)¹

The city of Mopti stood on three islands in the Niger River. In the narrow streets of the dense city, vendors busily readied themselves for the tourists and townsfolk who would soon crowd the streets. Aside from being unusually beautiful, the young woman walking down the streets toward the port did not draw particular notice, despite not being African; those that did notice assumed she had come from the north on a trip to see the Inland Delta; many Moroccans, Algerians, and Egyptians did, and even a few Europeans would show up from time to time. Mali had been stable for almost two decades – enough time to begin to slowly break free from the stereotypes about Sub-Saharan Africa’s neverending political turmoil.

The woman walked a good long way, until she reached the outskirts of the city; she was heading toward a house on a corner of one of the islands, one that was well-appointed by the standards of the city. She reached the door around mid-day; she supposed she could have come here by a more direct route, but the walk had given her time to think. And it did not tire her. Nothing could.

She reached to knock at the door, when a slight hissing noise drew her attention. She turned to her left, and saw a nine-foot-long python. The great serpent drew itself up, until its head was almost even with hers. And then, it did a most peculiar thing.

It bowed.

A human watching the display would have been startled, and would have assumed that she had misinterpreted the actions of the snake. But the young woman simply nodded back to the beast, and said, “Nyoka, it is good to see you again. I seek your mistress; is she in?”

The snake nodded, then jerked its head in a move that unmistakably said, “Follow me.” As the snake turned and slithered around the house, Aphrodite did just that.

Soon enough, snake and goddess arrived behind the house, where a woman was floating a good thirty meters out into the river. Before Aphrodite could call to her, the woman dove under, and moments later resurfaced right by the banks of the river. She rose out of the water, and had a human been there, no matter their gender or sexual orientation, they would have gasped.

She was beautiful – fully as beautiful as Aphrodite Herself. She pulled her hands through wild, kinky black hair, which she pulled back quickly into a single braid behind her, doing in moments what would take an average woman hours. Her café au lait-colored breasts were bare, and she wore a simple black, red, and green skirt which clung to her hips. Nyoka slithered up to her quickly, gliding around her shoulders, and laying its head on her ample bosom. The woman looked at Aphrodite gravely, and nodded.

“My Sister Goddess, welcome to my home,” she said, with a melodious West African accent.

“Hello, Mami Wata. It is good to see you again.”

“Hmm. Aphrodite, you have never come to visit me here, and I know full well you would not if the situation was not dire.”

“Mami Wata! You and I have visited many times – did I not visit you on Trinidad just eighty years ago?”

“That you did, child, but you have never visited me here, in the land of my birth. You Greeks never come further into Mother Africa than Alexandria.”

“But –”

Mami Wata could not keep her face straight. “Aphrodite, do you not know when I am teasing you? It’s lovely to see you. I see far too few non-African Gods or Goddesses in my territory these days. Mostly Allah, and he’s far to interested in preserving morality to give much respect to me. It’s lovely to see you, no matter the circumstance.”

“Hmpf,” said Aphrodite, returning the smile that Mami Wata now showed her. “I know what you mean. You didn’t have to put up with Yhwh, though.”

“And yet I did,” said Mami Wata, “as they’re the same God.”

“Only in the way you and I are the same God. Right?”

“Child, you have much you have not learned. But that is not surprising; most Gods and Goddesses have not spent time learning the Deeper Truth. And that is why you are here, is it not? To discuss the Deeper Truth?”

“I have come,” she said, “because of a dispute between myself, Hephaestus, and The Adversary.”

“I know,” said the African Goddess of Love. “I’ve seen the case. I am Of Council, still. Which is why you sought me, yes?”

“It is,” said Aphrodite. “I need your help, Mami Wata. I have never argued before the Council. And –”

“You most certainly do,” said Mami Wata. “But first, come in. We will have lunch, and discuss Truth. For what you are doing is far more than simply trying to reunite lovers. You are now fighting for the survival of humankind. I will try to help you, so you do not fail.”

And not waiting for her Greek counterpart to answer, Mami Wata headed up to her home. Nonplussed, Aphrodite followed.

* * *

It had been several hours since he’d been placed in the cage, and Adam was beginning to despair.

He couldn’t imagine that he’d been captured only to be put in a cage and forgotten; that made no sense. Surely, someone would be by soon to at the very least feed and water him. (Well, he had water – someone had hooked up a gerbil water bottle for him to suckle at. It was something.) When they came, he would plead for them to let him go. This was a lab – probably the person who ran it was looking to unlock the secret of his shrinking. Maybe he could agree to let them study him, in exchange for bringing Stephanie here. It wasn’t perfect, but they had to be decent people who he could reason with. Right?

Finally, after a fitful sleep on the ground, a noise woke him back to reality. He heard the click of a key in a lock, heard the squeal of a door opening. He rose, conscious of the fact that he was naked, and walked to the bars.

His heart skipped a beat, and his stomach plunged.

The blond woman was running a hand through her pixie-cut hair. She set her purse on a desk, and walked directly to the cage, flats clack-clacking on the floor of the lab. She smiled a cruel smile as she saw him standing up.

“You!” he called out.

“Well, you’re awake,” she said. “You shouldn’t have run. You made Dr. Marbas very angry with me. Very angry. He had to call in Andousha to look for you. And that…that made him very angry with me.”

“I’m sorry if Dr….”

“Marbas,” the woman reiterated. “His correction was most unpleasant.”

Adam paused at this. Even with all that was unusual about his life, this woman was more unusual than usual.

“I…I’m sorry if I got you in trouble. But to be fair, if this is where you were trying to take me in the first place…it’s not really where I wanted to be.”

“You will change your mind,” the woman said. “Dr. Marbas is brilliant, and very persuasive. He will make you see that this is all for the best.”

Adam paced. “I don’t know your name,” he said, after a moment, his mind reeling as he tried to figure out how to reason with someone who seemed crazy.

“I am Tanith,” the woman said, writing on a vast sheet of paper. “Tanith Nightingale. A pity. If you’d let me bring you here, and if I knew I could trust you, I’d be happy to pleasure you right now. But I am not allowed. Not yet.”

“That is…a kind offer, Tanith, but I am married,” Adam said. “I mean, unless I’m misunderstanding what you’re saying…but if you meant something sexual, I’m faithful to my wife.”

“You won’t have a choice,” she said. “Do you think you can resist me? I may not have Andousha’s powers, but I have enough height on you that you will be unable to do anything but submit when the time comes.”

“So you mean to rape me,” said Adam, directly.

Tanith came right up to the cage, bent her head down so that Adam’s entire view was her pretty, ugly face. She stared at him cruelly, a twisted smile tugging the corners of her lips.

“If that is what you force me to do,” she growled, and Adam could not help but feel she was rather counting on his forcing her hand.

There was the squeal of the door again, and Tanith rose. “Dr. Marbas!” she practically squealed with delight. “The subject is awake!”

“Excellent news, Tanith. Go fetch me coffee.”

“But….”

“Leave us, Tanith. I told you that you would have your turn. But not before me.”

“Of course not, Doctor. Of course not. When shall I return?”

“Ten minutes,” the man said. “Now, leave.”

Tanith left the room abruptly, and the new figure now loomed. He appeared to be forty-something, slick black hair fading gray at the temples, horn-rimmed glasses framing eyes that were so brown as to be almost completely black.

He appeared to be the very model of a scientist of the 1950s vintage, with the exception of an earring in his left ear of the same design as the logos on the wall – three lines radiating out from a circle, each capped with a circle at their endpoints, resembling nothing so much as a pyramid with no bottom. Two crosses ran orthogonally from the outer lines. The whole design was inscribed in a circle. Adam could not help the feeling that he’d seen it somewhere before.

“So, you slept,” the Doctor said, grabbing the chart hanging below the cage.

“Doctor…Marbas, look, please, I –”

“You slept?” the Doctor asked again, his tone indicating that he was not going to be conversing with the specimen until his questions were answered.

“Yes,” Adam replied. “But….”

“Have you evacuated your bladder? Voided your bowels?”

“Uh…the former. Last night.”

“I see. Let’s see here….”

The doctor took out a red laser pointer, and aimed it into Adam’s eyes. “Hey!” he shouted, but quickly, the light disappeared; it seemed to have headed for his feet.

“15.9 centimeters. Based on the information I have, I’d expect you to be at 14.4 tomorrow at this time, but we’ll see.”

Adam blinked, trying to get his sight back. “Dr. Marbas, please, I was kidnapped. My wife –”

“…is currently being drug through the court of public opinion and found wanting. Not that the police have any real reason to suspect her, but they will; it’s always the spouse, even when it isn’t. They’ll spin their wheels for at least the next seven weeks, by which point my calculations indicate you should be about one millimeter tall, and so small that I could drop you on Nancy Grace’s desk and she’d never find you. Save your breath, Mr. White, you are not going to leave this laboratory alive. Your reward comes after death.”

Adam stumbled backward, and sat down.

“What do you want?” he said.

“Oh, it’s not what I want,” he said. “It’s what my boss wants. He wants what made you small, Adam. He wants it very badly. This is novel, you see. The One who did this to you has hit upon something that my organization wants. With it, we will be able to do many great things.”

“I don’t know what made me small. Nobody does. And doctors….”

The Doctor laughed a mirthless laugh. “No, they wouldn’t find it. They couldn’t. It’s not a part of their science, and the real answer would just confuse them more. No, Adam, the truth is that what made you small was a form of magic, but a slightly different form than had existed before. The one who shrunk you did not realize what power She had stumbled onto, or she never would have wasted it the way She did – on one pathetic man at a time.”

“You’re crazy,” Adam said.

“Am I? Explain to me how you shrunk. Explain it in terms that do not reference the terms ‘miracle’ or ‘magic.’ Explain how it is that a human man became the size of a doll, in a universe where such a thing violates the square-cube law. You cannot. By the laws of science, you are an impossibility, Adam White. And if you cannot be explained by physics, then your explanation must lie in metaphysics.”

“Look,” Adam pleaded, “I don’t know who you are, or what your organization does, but I’ll let you study me – really, I’ll even stay in the lab. Just let Stephanie see me one more time. Let us say goodbye. Please, show some human decency, at least.”

Marbas laughed uproariously at that, a bitter, smoky laugh that made Adam’s stomach turn. “That, Adam White, is not something I show. Ah,” he said, as the door opened. “Tanith. Right on time. I will need measurement of shame. Here is the sensor,” he said, handing what appeared to be an enormous ruby to the giantess. “Take him into the back room, and shame him to your heart’s content. Be back in an hour. Try not to break him.”

Tanith beamed at Marbas, and literally skipped over to the cage. Opening it easily, she reached in.

Adam backed as far away as he could, but of course there was nowhere for him to run; the hand locked around him tightly, squeezing him like a garbage compactor as Tanith wrenched him out of his prison, and carried him, humming, to some place worse.

* * *

The Hall of the God-Teachers resembled Socrates’ academy to Eros, something he remarked upon immediately upon seeing it.

“I love Eye of the Beholder,” Jake agreed. “And that would be an appropriate visualization. I see the University of Wisconsin—Madison, which is funny, I suppose – spent most of my life trying to get over Madison, now most of my afterlife roaming its campus. But it’s appropriate for me; it is what I think of when I think of a school. And that is exactly what we do here. Ah, Shigure-san. Do you know where Master Yoda is?”

A solemn, pretty young woman was standing near the entrance to the hall, practicing alone with a largish katana. Eros could not help but notice that she was built improbably for a swordswoman, with overly large breasts that had to interfere with her movements. But she had been moving with amazing fluidity, and if her bosom affected her, she showed no sign of it.

“Hello, D.X.,” she said quietly, not breaking the rhythm of her movement. “I believe Master Yoda is in the tearoom. He was planning to have lunch with Gaius Baltar and Number Six.”

“Head Six and Head Baltar? Haven’t seen them in weeks. Weren’t they off on a mission with Morpheus?”

“And Emmett Brown. They just got back last night. Are you going to be joining us for Daihinmin this evening?”

“Probably. Who all is coming?”

“The Stranger will be there, as will The Dealey Lama and your friend Katrin. And I believe Mickey Goldmill said he would come, if he was able to complete his class on time.”

“Mickey will be there? Well, then I’m in for sure. That guy has the best stories,” he said to Eros. “I mean, he should. He was there for Balboa-Creed, and the rematch – those are some of the best fights in any reality.”

“I believe I heard about those – weren’t they in a movie?” said Eros.

“Yeah, Mick tells ‘em better. Anyhow, dear, we’re in a rush, or I’d ask you to try to teach my slow, maladroit self a few more moves. Thanks for pointing us in the right direction. Mata atode, Shigure.”

“Until later, D.X. Oh, and it was nice to meet you, Lord Eros. And curse you for how you interfered in my training with Kenichi. And thank you as well.”

Eros grinned. “Not sure whether that was my personal doing, but on behalf of my fellow Love Gods, I apologize and you’re welcome, Shigure-san.”

Eros and Jake continued on into the complex.

“I imagine that’s generally how people thank you,” Jake chuckled, “for interfering in their lives.”

“It’s pretty standard,” Eros agreed. “Love is complex, after all.”

“True. I have nothing but gratitude, incidentally. The course of true love may not run smooth – or long – but thank God for it while it runs. I miss Teri – but I am so grateful to have been hers while I could. Thanks.”

“You are very welcome,” said Eros. They continued on for a moment, before the God asked, “So why did she call you ‘D.X.’?”

“Long and boring story,” Jake said, gesturing toward what appeared to Eros to be an open eating area. “This way.”

* * *

Lunch was a simple affair, tigadèguèna – mutton in a peanut-tomato sauce ladled around plantain fufu, some sweet meni-meniyong – sesame seeds cooked in butter and honey – for desert. Mami Wata poured Orangina for them both, not bothering to ask if it was what Aphrodite would prefer. The food had simply been ready when they arrived in the dining room, and Aphrodite briefly considered objecting, as in truth, neither one of them needed to eat to survive. But she did not; it seemed important to Mami Wata that they enjoy lunch, and she did not second-guess the Goddess; indeed, she found the food was quite delicious in its simplicity, reminding her simultaneously of her favorite Mediterranean fare and, oddly, East Asian cuisine.

After some time spent discussing the food, Mami Wata drew the conversation to important things.

“I must say, child, I am impressed that you chose to go to the Council with your case. There was a time when the mighty Aphrodite would have pouted and whined to Zeus to fix things for her. And if that didn’t work, she would have wheedled and stamped her pretty little feet until she finally gave up. More important, she wouldn’t have even bothered caring about two mortals in love; if she had to wait twenty years, or a thousand, she wouldn’t have minded. So while I am impressed with your passion in this case, I still must ask why you chose to go to the Council in the first place?”

Aphrodite swallowed, and said, quietly, “Because my fellow Gods and Goddesses know me as a petulant brat. And they know me as that because, for most of my existence, that is exactly what I have been. But I am older now. I have seen love and loss. And I do not wish to be the cause of the latter again.”

Mami Wata nodded. “An excellent answer, one I am sure you believe. And totally wrong.”

Aphrodite sat mute, frowning.

After a minute, Mama Wati asked, “So aren’t you going to ask me what the Truth is?”

“I…don’t even know what to ask,” said Aphrodite. “What I told you is the truth.”

“Yeah, it’s the truth all right. But it isn’t the Truth, with a capital T. Or if you’d prefer, Αλήθεια with a capital Alpha. The Truth – that’s a big thing. Bigger than even we Gods like to think. Tell me, Aphrodite, has love changed?”

Aprhodite looked at Mami Wata, and said, slowly, “Yes, and no.”

“Always the right answer. Explain.”

“No, because Love is Love is Love. It is what it is, eternal and unchanging. And yet, Love is not simply Love. And that is what is changing. Agape is different now, because women and men are more equal, and that means that a man can love a woman as his equal, and a woman can love a man as her equal, and that means that we do not have the kind of world we had in my ancestral homeland, where men would date boys because at least boys had an education, had learning, and where women would date each other, because what did men know of a woman’s life? Today, men date women and women men and neither is doing so just to find a mental equal – unless men find men more attractive or women find women more attractive – and that brings me to eros, because eros is different now, too. Lust is still lust, but lust takes on a different connotation when you acknowledge the object of your affection is a real, live person. And more and more humans have come to believe just that.

“The feelings are the same, but like the world around us, they are different. They are more meaningful. More real. That was the reason I made the bet with Hephaestus in the first place – because I believe that a couple now is more truly a real couple than they ever were in my day. And that makes all the difference in the world.”

Mami Wata smiled thinly. “Exactly right. Now, explain how that has changed you.”

Aphrodite stopped. “Changed me?”

“Yes, child. Love has changed. We Gods like to think we change and control volitionals, and we do. But they change us, too.”

Aphrodite gasped. “You mean…because love is deeper now, more equal, more sacred, more real – but that can’t….”

“Why not? Why can’t it be?”

Aphrodite swallowed, hard. “You’re saying I’m more mature because humans are more mature?”

“Yes. And why do you care about this couple, when you would not have before?”

“Because…because I view humans as equals, or at least, not as playtoys. I see that they have feelings, thoughts, desires of their own, that they may not have the powers we Gods do, but that the difference between us and them is not so great as we once believed. And that just as I would think it wrong to punish two Gods beyond reason, so I think it wrong to punish two mortals.”

Mami Wata beamed like a teacher watching her star pupil. “That is the Truth, Aphrodite. That is the Truth. And now that you know it, we can begin to talk about how you convince the Council of Thirteen of it.”

Aphrodite pulled from thin air a notepad and a pen. This was going to take a while. But it would be well worth it.

* * *

“Excuse me for interrupting, but I have a visitor who requires immediate assistance,” Jake said, coming over to the table. “Master Yoda, Gaius, Six, I’d like to introduce you to Eros, God of Lust.”

Eros nodded to the people at the table. Gaius was a short, handsome man, clean-shaven with long hair, wearing a dark gray pinstripe suit, open at the collar. Six was a tall, gorgeous woman with platinum hair and an athletic build, wearing a red dress that was ridiculously dressy for the situation. Both greeted him with a nod and a smile.

The third man at the table required concentration to resolve. The Eye of the Beholder spell that covered the God-Teacher’s Guild was quite strong, as strong as in Afterlife Processing, or Central Square. And so the spell wanted to present the man in human terms, as a tall, very old, but still dashingly handsome warrior, still carrying much of the muscle of his youth, despite his advanced age. The spell wanted to present him this way, but it did not, because the man wanted to present himself as about three feet tall, covered in wrinkled green skin, wispy white hair attesting to his age, large, green ears sprouting from each side of his face.

Of course, he was still tall and dashingly handsome. Just not for a human.

It takes a certain level of willpower to project one’s true appearance through an Eye of the Beholder spell, and Eros realized immediately why despite Jake’s insistence on familiarity, everyone seemed to use Master Yoda’s title.

“Worry about interrupting us do not, Jacob. Always welcome here, Lord Eros is. Right that is, Gaius, hmm? Six, hmm?”

“Of course,” said the man, in a Received English accent. “Please, join us Eros. We are honored to have you here.”

“Absolutely,” Six said, smiling. Eros felt briefly dazzled – he could sense attraction between these two – they were formerly angels, he thought, or something like them. And they were an unbelievably handsome couple. He felt the normal rush he felt when love was in the air. But he pushed it aside, as he had business to attend to.

“Master Yoda, Eros wishes to figure out what The Adversary has planned for his universe.”

Yoda pursed his lips. “Always difficult to know are the goals of the Dark Side. Twisted desire to cover its tracks, evil has, so determine what it truly wants, that nobody can. If wish to find out what the devil desires, you do, difficult the process will be.”

“I have no choice,” Eros said. “My mother – Aphrodite – she tried to win a Gods’ bet with her husband, Hephaestus. But he was working with The Adversary to bring that about. He clearly had a motive. But I need to know what it is.”

“Power,” said Gaius. “And destruction. Those are always The Adversary’s goals.”

“Not always,” said Six. “Sometimes, The Adversary simply wishes to put humans in position to destroy themselves – He is not always malevolent. But he is always on the side of evil.”

“Exactly,” Jake added. “Much of the time, The Adversary just has to keep the road clear for a little while. For instance, he had almost nothing to do with Hitler’s rise – that was all humans. Stalinism? Humans. Pol Pot? Humans. Humans will go further than even The Adversary would go. It’s our curse.”

“And yet, go further toward good than even the gods, humans will. Powerful is the dark side in humans, powerful too the side of good.”

“That is true. And often, both at the same time. Consider my human counterpart, Gaius. Utterly hopeless, terrible person, behind the worst catastrophe in human history – and integral in preserving humanity. Ultimately redeemed. Thanks in no small part to my beautiful colleague here.”

“Look, this is all fascinating,” said Eros, “but I need to find this out soon. In three fortnights, the man will have shrunk to almost nothing, and the trial is in three weeks.”

“Sorry,” said Jake. “You’ve come to the home of teachers. Expounding on stuff is our favorite pastime.”

Yoda looked thoughtful. “Have to visit Hell, you will. The only way, it is. Need a guide on your journey, you will.”

“Aphrodite had suggested Merlin,” Jake said.

“Hmm. No. Away on business for the Guild, Merlin is. At the heroes’ guild, he is, and return in time will not.”

“What about Rufus? He knows the territory. And he’s funny,” said Six.

“He’s a Kevin Smith creation, which means he’s frakkin’ hilarious, but I don’t know if Rufus fits the mood of the narrative,” said Gaius.

“Wait, I’ve got it!” Jake exclaimed.

“What?” said Six and Baltar together.

“Look, he needs a God-Teacher who knows Hell. Why not send him with Dante’s guide? Yoda, what’s Publius Vergillus Maro doing?”

“Virgil! An excellent idea. The perfect guide would Virgil be. Yes, hmm.”

“Virgil? He should be available,” said a quiet woman approaching the table. “Forgive me, I could not help overhearing.”

“You always have had good hearing, Miyu-san. Do you know where we can find Virgil?”

“He, Homer, and a visiting writer were working on their modern fiction-style narrative of The Aeneid and The Odyssey. They’re quite certain the update will be a hit in the afterworld.”

“Depends on who they’re working with. It it’s Hemingway, it’ll be awful. If they’re smart, they’ve tapped Jane Austen. I think she’d be the perfect person to write the Helen part,” said Jake, grinning. “With your leave, Master Yoda?”

“Please, to Virgil take Lord Eros. You luck I wish, Lord. Need it, you will. Yes, hmm.”

Jake bowed his head to Yoda, then got up, as did Eros. “Thank you kindly, Master Yoda. Pleasure to meet you, Master Gaius, Mistress Six, Miyu-san.”

The three nodded their goodbyes. “Right this way, Eros,” said Jake, gesturing to the doorway. “You’ll like Virgil. I’m pretty sure your avatar Cupid had quite a bit to do with his school years.”

“Well, that was back when such things were pretty commonplace. Especially among schoolboys,” agreed Eros, as the two left the café.

* * *

Tanith dropped Adam on a hard surface, dropped him hard enough that it caused him to wince in pain. “Well, well. You’re a nice size now. A little on the big side for what I have in mind…but that’s okay. I always liked big.”

“Tanith – please,” Adam said. He knew, frankly, that she intended fully to ignore him. But he wanted it in the record. If there was any force out there that judged him on his death, he wanted to be able to say he tried to stay faithful to his wife.

“Come on. Beg. Beg for me not to do this,” she said, mockingly, as she pulled her blouse over her head. “Beg me to leave you alone. Beg.”

“Will begging stop you? Tanith, I love my wife. I love her with all my heart. And I would never cheat on her. Never. If you are a decent person, that will stop you. If not – well, I can’t stop you. But I’ll be damned if I beg you,” he said,.

“You’ll be damned either way. And then we’ll have even more fun,” she said, turning back to him, dropping her bra to give him an unobstructed view of mammoth tits. “But you’re right, little toy, whether or not you beg, it will make no difference. I will say, you will find this less painful, though, if you cooperate.

“Of course, I think I’ll find it more fun if you don’t. So you choose.”

She pulled her panties down to show off her freshly shaved mound, and rubbed a finger over her clit. And then, waiting not a second, she brought the second item over Adam – a plastic squeeze bottle, which she turned over and poured on him.

Adam gagged on the viscous liquid, which he knew from long experience was Astroglide – she wasn’t going to wait to get herself warmed up.

She put the bottle down, and spread her lips wide, pink flesh opening to a chasm, and she pushed the slippery man toward it.

Adam fought. He fought with every ounce of strength he had, hands slipping off of her labia, elbows colliding with her flesh, bringing only a mocking moan from the giantess. She pushed him wrenchingly between the lips, causing him to shout from the pain – he felt a tendon pop in his shoulder. But still, he kicked and fought and squirmed all the way in.

He was inside another woman. He hated this. Even as parts of him reacted to the overpowering vinegary smell of Tanith, his mind was clear and enraged. He realized after a few moments that all his effort was only stimulating the giantess. And so he did something that surprised her.

He stopped.

He stopped, and lay as still as he could. If she wanted to get off on him, she’d have to do the work.

After a few moments, she grabbed his ankles, and pulled, then pushed, a rough grab that twisted his left knee but good. But he lay there, still, as the woman’s ardor filled his world. Again, she grabbed his ankles, and pushed and pulled, trying to make him be her dildo. But he would give her no more satisfaction than that. If she wanted him to be her sex toy, he was determined to be a bad one.

After a minute or two more, she finally pulled him out, and chucked him a good eighty feet onto a cot in the corner. He bounced twice, and came to a halt face-down, groaning in pain. “Bastard,” the woman spat. “If you’re that bad a lay, no wonder Stephanie wasn’t paying attention to you.”

“Stephanie had no reason to complain. I was happy to be her fuck toy. Her pussy didn’t stink. Seriously, did Marbas want you to nauseate me? It’s working.”

Tanith strode over, and dropped a fist next to him, bouncing him several feet into the air. “I would not mock me if I were you! I can destroy you, you know, just a quick flick of my finger….”

“You won’t kill me,” Adam said, gasping for air. “Not yet. Marbas needs to study me. He would be unhappy if you brought me back dead.”

Adam didn’t know that for sure. But he didn’t mind bluffing. He’d already been told that he wouldn’t get out of this alive. If that was the case, then he had nothing to lose by being uncooperative. It seemed to him that death was preferable to allowing himself to be raped.

Tanith glowered at him, then did flick her finger – at his side, enough to leave him groaning in pain. “Well,” she said, standing up, “you appear to be shameless. At least so far. But we’ll see how you feel after a bit more working over. You think I’m tough? Wait ’til Dr. Marbas gets a hold of you. You’ll wish you were back in my pussy. You’ll beg for me, you son of a bitch.”

Adam said nothing. He knew things probably would get worse. But he smiled quietly. At least he’d won the first round. That gave him the strength to keep fighting.

It was strength he would most certainly need.

* * *

They walked a short way across the campus, until they came to a building that briefly stopped Eros cold. “I know this is just my perception,” he said, as they walked toward it, “but I could swear this was the Library.”

Jake smiled. He didn’t have to ask which library. “It is,” he said. “Down to the molecule, at least when it was brought here. Sophocles and Plato were instrumental in making that happen, of course – and we’ve added on since. But still…it’s impressive, isn’t it?”

The Royal Library of Alexandria was the only building in the land of the guild that appeared the same to everyone. Eros looked on it with a wide grin; Julius Caesar had burned it in the first century A.D., destroying hundreds of thousands of scrolls, the most complete collection in the world Eros had patrolled. He had mourned its lost; all the Greek Pantheon did. It was overwhelming to see it here, even if it was just a copy. He hadn’t seen the old girl for two thousand years.

They walked in, and Eros could see that there had been a lot of change done to the inside. The left half of the entrance was much as it had been; to the right, a thoroughly modern set of book stacks were surrounded by computer terminals and open discussion areas. Far distant, he could see medieval books, and he knew, though he wasn’t sure how, that stairs in the back led to a collection of cuneiform tablets.

“We wouldn’t be a teaching guild if we didn’t have a good library,” Jake said, smiling. “Honestly, this is why I wouldn’t be a part of any other guild. Every book, every story, every tale ever written is in stock here. Everything from really bad Harry Potter fanfic to the original copy of Gilgamesh. I could spend years here; heck, I have spent years here. Excuse me, Daneel, have you seen Virgil?”

The last words were spoken to a quiet man with a broad face and flat, bronze hair, who was waiting at an information desk. “Yes, though he is in a conference room and did not wish to be disturbed.”

Jake sighed. “Writers,” he said. “They can pick it up later. Eros is here on urgent business.”

“Well, that changes things,” said the sober man, picking up a telephone. “Hello, Mr. Adams, this is R. Daneel Olivaw,” he said, calmly. “Yes, I am aware. But Jake Thiessen is here with Eros, God of Lust; he says the latter is on business and needs to see Virgil. I see. Very well, I will send them back.”

The librarian hung up the phone, and said, “They are on level seventy three. One moment, you will be transported there directly.”

Without so much as a noise, they were suddenly in a large conference room, around which various parchments, papers, and typewriters were scattered.

“Pardon the interruption,” Jake said, as they walked into the room, toward three men who were looking over a computer screen, “but Lord Eros is in need of assistance.”

“And just in time,” said the one man of the group who appeared in twentieth-century clothing. “We were getting dangerously close to getting something done. This could set us back weeks.”

The man delivered the line with a cheery air, delivering the clear message that he thought this was a fine thing.

“This will put us beyond our original deadline, Jake,” an older man said. He was dressed in traditional Greek vestments, and Eros recognized him at once.

“I think you can make arrangements, Homer,” said Eros, with a tone of command. “My mother is in serious trouble, and I need Virgil’s help.”

“You mother? In trouble? You mean she’s made trouble for some poor mortal. I’ve written enough about your mother to know just how concerned she is with my former fellow mortals.”

“Actually, the trouble is coming from The Adversary, and from what Eros has told me, Aphrodite is working to protect a mortal from harm. Besides, Master Yoda –”

“Oh, don’t let Homer worry you,” said the Brit, who was doodling in a margin on a scroll. “He’s just in a bad mood because Virgil and I didn’t think that Ford Prefect would fit in the story, not even in an unnamed cameo. And he wouldn’t. At all. Not that I’m not flattered. Now, Svald might work, but he’s not a big fan of the Gently books.”

“The Hitchhiker’s brand is bigger. I mean, look, it’ll draw in the non-human realms. If we’re looking for distribution….”

Jake cleared his throat loudly. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said. “But we are in a loose-time corner of the back beyond. If you want a timestop in this conference room until Virgil – who’s been very quiet so far – can return, I can get that done in a half-second. As can either of the God-Teachers – I’m not sure what the Creator’s Guild has for powers, but I imagine you can do something similar, Mr. Adams.”

“I can, Master Jake. I just don’t usually worry about deadlines. Especially in the afterlife. What’s the point of being dead if you have to worry about getting things done on time?”

“Homer, Douglas is right,” said the quiet third man, who’d been staring out the window. Pulling himself up on a cane, he said, “This is a vanity project anyhow. Not that I’m not enjoying it, mind you. I assume that Eros needs me to escort him to Hell?”

“Yes, Virgil,” said the God.

“Well we’d better get going then,” said the writer, with a shy smile. “This will keep ’til we get back. Jake, you want to come along?”

“I’d love to,” Thiessen said, “but Erato let me know yesterday morning that my Author is starting up some project that will require me to be available for a cameo. Probably Delta – he’s been letting that slide for over a year, but eventually he’ll be ashamed enough to get working on it. That’s what he did with Lost Change. Of course, I’m sure I’m around just to point my protégées in the right direction, I haven’t had more than a few lines of exposition in a story since the bastard killed me off.”

“Typical writer,” said Adams, grinning. “Always abusing their characters. If only he’d show a typical day in your life in the afterworld.”

“Fat chance,” said Jake. Turning to the Greek God, he said, “Well, Eros, good luck. I hope you can help your mother, and those two mortals. And Virgil, make sure you bring him back in one piece.”

“Of course, Jake,” the quiet God-Teacher said. “All right,” he said to the God next to him. “Let’s go.”

And with a wave of his cane, they were gone.

* * *

“Almost no shame,” said Marbas, sneering, as he examined the crystal. “Tanith, I’m disappointed.”

“He refused to participate,” she said.

“Well. Intriguing. And a good first step in telling us what we need to know. Don’t be sad, dear,” he said, catching her chin and lifting it. “You’ll get a chance to test pain next. Later today.”

In his cage, Adam closed his eyes, and prayed that he would have the strength to keep resisting. He did not want to give these evil, crazy idiots any indication that they could break him. Even if in his heart, he knew they eventually would.

Chapter Nine

Aνάγκᾳ δ’οὐδὲ θεοὶ μάχονται¹

Queen Aoibheal of Thomond streaked through the morning sky, headed southwest, toward a smallish suburb of Houston, in the American state of Texas. It was, she thought, the absolute last place on Earth she would expect to be heading.

It was not that Aoibheal had never left Éire; like any Fay Goddess, she had been ’round the world and deep in the heavens and through the back beyond far more times than she could count. But that said, she had little reason to leave the southwest corner of the Emerald Isle these days. But the God who had asked her was persuasive, and she owed his family much.

As she traversed the turbulent jet stream, she mused on the conversation they had enjoyed, not long after dawn.

“Well, by Auberon’s crown, ’tis Eros!” she’d exclaimed, flying up to meet the eye of the beautiful giant. Well, to be fair, he was sized as a mortal human, and he offered quickly to drop to her scale; she demurred. She enjoyed the pretty god’s visage quite enough to entreat him to remain at his height. (Indeed, it would have been easier for her to join him at his height – she was Goddess of Love and Size, after all.)

“Your majesty, I have come to ask a favor,” he had said, and he had explained the convoluted dealings his mother, Aoibheal’s rival and friend Aphrodite, had been involved with – and that The Corrupt One had inserted Himself into.

“I cannot ask you to go,” he had said. “I cannot ask you to follow Adam White, to work to safeguard him. My mother would be furious if she knew I had asked you. And yet – I believe that the interests of love are best served by you doing exactly that. He is a good man, from what I can find. He honors his wife well.”

“Aye, ’tis a rare enough man who does that,” Aoibheal had responded. “You remember the case I heard not two centuries ago? ‘Tis only in the last twoscore years that men have finally begun to live up to my orders. Ah, but that’s part your doing; you turn women’s heads to the men…and men’s heads, too.”

Eros blushed. “My daughter is hard at work at the complementary tasks, Highness. And besides, I know Freyja and Freyr spend quite a bit of time in Ireland – more than they do in Iceland. And certainly more than I.”

“That they do, that they do,” Aoibheal said, with a smile. “A right pair, those two. So you would feign ask me to go to vouchsafe this Adam; and what, praytell, is to be my recompense?”

“Highness, is not the knowledge that you have worked to thwart The Adversary and worked to bring two lovers back together enough?”

“Nay,” said Aoibheal, fluttering demurely in front of the face of the Greek God. “Though I believe you will meet my price, Eros.”

“Oh?”

“Aye. ‘Tis only an action you must take – ’twill cost you nothing but time.”

“Hopefully not much?”

“Less than a day.”

“Well, then. I’m happy to oblige, though I would like to know what I’m promising.”

Aoibheal smiled coquettishly. “Your ma is one of my favorites, and I am glad to help her. Aye, even were you to back out of this, I would. But ’tis been a long time since you and Psyche paid me a visit. And I insist that you do so when all is well.”

“Is that all? We’d love to.”

“’Tis not quite all. You see, you pair make quite a lovely landscape. And during your visit, you will take me to your bed as well, the better for me to explore it.”

Eros looked momentarily stunned, then burst out laughing. “That’s the ‘price,’ huh? Highness, if not for the urgency of our tasks, I’d invite Psyche this instant. I rather imagine the three of us can have quite a good time, exploring various landscapes presented by the three of us – indeed, I insist on it. But duty first.”

Aoibheal smiled back, running a hand flirtatiously through her long red hair. “Aye, should have known you’d add that you’d like to explore landscapes as well. ‘Twill be a pleasure. But indeed, duty first. We shall have time enough for love. Now, where can this Adam be found then?”

She shivered happily as she began her descent from ten thousand feet, straight down toward the Texas coast. She reached out with her inner self, searching for the one she had agreed to guard. It was not difficult; to a Goddess of her nature, a shrunken man stood out against the background noise of the world like a beacon. She altered her vector and began to aim for him, hoping against hope that she would find him before any of The Corrupt One’s lot. She knew Eros would hold to his end of the bargain no matter how this all worked out. But she imagined he’d be happier if all had worked out for the best. And men – be they human or God – were always better lovers when happy.

* * *

The doorbell rang, and Stephanie cursed, rolling off the couch and onto the floor. She had barely been able to sleep – and not at all in their bed – but she had finally gotten into a fitful slumber made barely tolerable by a dream that Adam had come back to her, full-sized, and they had hugged. That was all they had done – just held on to each other. But it had warmed her soul, albeit briefly.

But now she was awake, and there was no Adam, only the insistent ringing of the doorbell.

She got up and trudged to the door, moving quietly toward the peephole; it seemed five out of every six visitors were people hell-bent on excoriating her for murdering her husband, which had eventually led her to hang heavy curtains on all the windows and add another lock to the door. Her mother had suggested she check into a hotel, or come stay with them, but she refused; if Adam got free, he’d come to her, here. She had to be here.

She relaxed after looking through the peephole, and undid each lock, opening the door just enough to let the visitor slide inside, before closing and locking the door again.

“You don’t have to keep doing this,” she said, taking the coffee from Michael. “I mean, really. I can take care of myself.”

“No, you can’t, and you don’t have Adam to help you, either, so go sit down at the table, and we’ll have a bagel and talk. I got you an everything bagel – last one they had.”

“Hmpf. Well, for an everything bagel – I guess.”

She ate in silence for a good while, as Michael explained how he, Adam’s family, and her parents were talking with the Federales about possible ways Adam could have been abducted, and that there was one woman at the Houston airport who swore she saw a tiny man dodging through legs at a security checkpoint – though she was kind of blind, and wasn’t totally sure it wasn’t a squirrel. And then, Michael added something he’d been pushing for days.

“And I have a lawyer ready, willing, and able to represent you, pro bono, assuming you’ve changed your mind.”

“No lawyer,” Stephanie muttered. “I didn’t kill him.”

“Nobody’s saying you did. But some people think you did, and if the police start investigating you seriously, you’re going to want legal representation. I mean, having a lawyer doesn’t mean you’re guilty. It just means you’re taking care of your legal rights.”

“I don’t want to close off any leads,” said Stephanie. “If the police want to search me, search my house – whatever they find, they can maybe use to find him.”

“Or convict you,” said Michael, quietly.

Stephanie looked up, furious. “I didn’t kill him, Michael! For God’s sake, don’t you believe that?”

“First, even if you did, I’d stand by you, Steph. You’re my best friend. Second, of course I believe you. But innocent people get convicted. And I don’t want to see you convicted of murder when we know Adam was going to die in two months anyhow. I mean….”

“I know what you mean,” said Stephanie. “I’ve heard the ’soft’ version of my killing him. ‘Maybe they agreed to put him out of his misery, maybe they agreed to let him be killed.’ I promised to take care of Adam until he was too small for me to see, and then – well, to take care of him as long as I could. And I would have. And I will. When we find him.

“If we find him.”

With that, she broke down, and found herself hugging Michael, which was not nearly so good as hugging Adam, but which helped. “Shh…Steph, it’s okay. I do believe you. You could never hurt Adam. I know that. You loved him.”

“I j-j-just wish I knew what happened to him. I w-w-wish I knew he was safe. Who would take him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” said Michael, “he wanted to save you the anguish of the next two months.”

“What?”

Michael stepped back, and looked deep into Stephanie’s eyes. “Maybe…you told me once, he was despondent. But he came out of it, right? Maybe he came out of it because he’d decided to end it on his terms. Maybe he encouraged you to go snorkeling so he could leave, disappear for good, and give you your life back immediately.”

“That – that’s impossible. Adam asked –”

“I’m sure he asked a lot of things. But maybe he had a plan all along. His dad thought it was something he could have done. And – don’t worry, Steph, I want you to know that his parents are convinced that you had nothing to do with this. ‘She coulda killed him any time over the last few months, nobody would’ve questioned it,’ that’s what his mom said. She thinks he just shrunk down to nothing, like he suddenly became to small to exist.”

Stephanie stared at the floor.

“Steph, we’re going to do everything we can to resolve this, but…I mean, most missing person cases end up the same way. And this one, with Adam’s problem….”

“He’s alive, Michael,” said Stephanie, softly and defiantly. “I won’t hear anyone say anything else. Not now. Not ever. Until I see his body, until I have it proven to me that my husband is dead, he is alive.”

Her voice gained steel as she talked. “He would not walk away from me, not without saying goodbye. He did not shrink down to nothing, not when he was shrinking ten-point-oh-three percent per day, plus or minus one-half percent. I did not kill him. And if someone else killed him, they’d best hope I never find them, because I will gladly escort them to the gates of Hell. We will not stop looking for him until we find him. Do you understand me?”

Michael looked at her with shock and awe. “Of course, Stephanie. I’m not suggesting….”

“Yes, you were. But I forgive you. You’re my friend. You’re not Adam’s wife. You are allowed your lack of faith. But I am not.”

Michael stood up. “Well, I know one thing – wherever Adam is, I hope he knows what a good wife he found.”

“Wherever he is,” said Stephanie, her steel fading to tin, “I just hope he can forgive me.”

* * *

Aoibheal felt her way to the park, floating downward silently and invisibly. Most humans could only see Gods when Gods wanted them to; perhaps someone with the Sight might see her, but then, someone with the Sight saw things odder than an Irish faerie queen most every day. She would not draw attention.

She floated through a picnic lunch being shared by two pretty mothers and their infant charges, following the trail Adam’s aura had left. It was not insignificant; she was impressed. His inner light shone brightly, for a human. She looked out over the field, and saw him, by a large shelter.

And then, she put her hand to her mouth to stifle the scream.

The two children had him surrounded; Adam had tried to reason with them, but they seemed much more excited about finding him than anything else.

“So do you think she meant what she said?” the younger, tow-headed nine-year-old asked.

“I sure hope so,” his big sister, all of eleven or twelve, said. “Now, we just need to bring him to her.”

“Who? Who are you talking about? Listen, I was kidnapped, I need to go home to my wife,” Adam repeated.

“You’re silly. We’ve been promised fifty bucks each to give you to Andrea. She showed it to us and everything.”

“Listen, miss,” said Adam, staring at the girl as he winced from the grip of her brother, “if you get me in touch with my wife, I can promise to double that. Triple it, even!”

“Nuh-uh,” the boy said. “Andrea said you’d say that, but not to trust you.”

“Who is this ‘Andrea?’ Listen, I’m a human being, you have to help me.”

“No, they don’t.”

Adam looked up, and was astounded to see a ludicrously gorgeous woman, easily the most beautiful he’d ever seen, even more so than Stephanie. Her long, black hair spiraled into curls that framed her face, which was a vision of loveliness – except for the expression it wore, one that was crossed between a sneer and a snarl. The expression destroyed any momentary feeling of lust Adam may have felt, and replaced it with terror.

“You children did well. I told you that there would be a brownie here. Fifty dollars each, that is your prize,” the woman said, handing the cash over as the boy quickly, fumblingly foisted Adam into the palm of this woman’s hand. As the boy and girl excitedly wandered off, gabbing about how they’d spend their fortune, the beautiful woman looked down at him, like a predator looks at her prey. She opened her lovely palm, and forced Adam flat, one finger on his hands above him, one on his feet below. And then she did something he was not expecting.

She licked him.

Licked him from head to toe, and back again, and then back, to his midsection, to his manhood, which was involuntarily springing to life, even as he tried to mentally fight it down. “Please,” he said, “please, I’m married. Please, don’t do this. Stop. No!”

But his voice softened with each caress of her tongue, not because he was losing his will to fight – he had no desire to cheat on Stephanie, and though one could only call what was being done to him rape, he still felt ashamed for not being able to stop it. But with each stroke of her tongue, he felt his strength ebbing, as she sucked and licked his tiny cock, he felt his limbs weakening, until he mercifully spasmed, and lay in the icy cold of the woman’s palm, barely able to squirm.

“There,” she said. “That will make you much easier to transport.” And with that, she stuffed Adam into a pouch on her belt.

Aoibheal had watched in horror as the great horned demon had attacked her prey; she knew Adam did not see it the same way, but was strengthened in her resolve to help him by the fight he gave. Were he a less honorable man, he may have found joy in the ministrations of what would appear to him as a beauty of the highest order. That he tried to fight it instead, even against the greatest of odds – Eros was right, this was a man who deserved her help.

And so, as the great demon spread her leathery wings and took to the sky, Aoibheal waited a ten count, and did the same, staying a respectable distance behind. It would not do to be found out, not before she learned where Adam was being taken.

* * *

Eros alighted on the sandy beach, and did a double-take; the beach appeared for all the world to be his mother’s homeland of Cyprus, only Cyprus as it had been in the distant past, before the land had been scarred by war. It was one of the most beautiful places in the ancient world, and Eros wondered, briefly, if he’d somehow chosen the wrong incantation, and sent himself through time, instead of into the Back Beyond.

“Always gets visitors the first time,” said a voice from behind him. Eros wheeled, and saw a bald, goateed man, dressed in a manner that would be utterly normal in the twenty-first century A.D. – which ruled out the ancient world.

“Eye of the Beholder,” the man said, as he approached. “Land’s a metaphor, sea’s like a simile. But you should know the drill. You are a God, if I’m not mistaken. Let’s see…Eros, Greek God of Lust…from the looks of it, an incarnation that’s made it into at least the late twentieth century. Am I right?”

“Yes. And you are?”

“Overly proud that my studies are paying off. Jake Thiessen,” the man said, holding out a hand to shake. “Welcome to the God-Teacher’s Guild.”

“Thank you, Teacher Thissen,” said Eros, reaching his hand out in kind.

“Please, call me Jake. We don’t stand much on ceremony here. We all spend most of our corporeal lives teaching – it’s nice not to have people people addressing you formally. So, what brings you here, God of Lust? I’m not saying that you can’t spice things up, but really, we’ve got the usual afterlife views on sensuality around here, so I’m not sure you’re going to be able to drum up much business.”

“I’m not here for that,” said Eros. “I’m looking for help in finding out what The Adversary would want with a man my mother has shrunk.”

Thissen did a double-take, and looked at the God sideways. “No….you’re not from my homeworld. For a second there…huh. Funny you’d run into me, though She does have a sense of humor. Anyhow, you want to figure out what The Adversary is up to? Why don’t you just ask?”

“Because I don’t want to have to deal with the lies I’ll get.”

“That’s too bad. Every incarnation of Shaitan Lucifer Iblis is a liar, and if I’m right about your branch of the multiverse, yours is worse than most. But you’re not going to get the answer by sneaking around. Hell is full of spooks and agents; nobody keeps a secret better than them.”

“I imagine She could.”

“She doesn’t keep secrets. She lays all the cards out on the table. That’s the problem – she lays ‘em all out. Brilliant – it’s so much information that not even the Gods Themselves can reason it out. But listen, I sense the urgency from you; you have come here for instruction, and that’s what we aim to do. But I’m not the one you want. I’m not sure, actually, who is.”

“My mother recommended Merlin,” Eros said, helpfully.

“Your mother might well be right, but we shall see.” The God-Teacher stroked his beard for a second, before snapping his fingers. “That’s it! We’ll go see Yoda. He’ll know.”

“Yoda?”

“Great guy. Probably the smartest of all of us – with the possible exception of Albus Dumbledore. But – between you and me – don’t let Gandalf hear you say that. He was the Wise Old Man around here when most of us were not even a sparkle in our great-great-great-great-grandmothers’ ovaries, and he rarely lets us forget it.”

“I see. Is every wise teacher in every story ever told here?”

“Not every one. Pai Mei is still hung up in debate – more than a few of us, including myself, think his methods were a bit…well, over-the-top. But he’ll probably make it in the end. Heck, Bak Mei is here, after all. But we’re making him wait a few years before we give him the stamp of approval. Not that he minds. Odin asked if he could bring him to Valhalla, teach some of his fighters a few new tricks. And, let’s see…oh yeah, Kahless the Unforgettable – he’ll be in at some point soon, but more than a few of us are worried about allowing in Star Trek-related characters. I mean, once you do that, then you’re sorting through Mary Sues everyday and it’s work, work, work, especially for those of us who were accused of being Mary Sues when we were up for debate.”

“You have completely lost me,” Eros admitted. “Perhaps we’d better go find this Yoda.”

“Indeed,” said Jake. “I do have a tendency to monologue. Comes from having been an Author Avatar in my waking life. Yoda’s up the hill, at the guild hall. Follow me.”

* * *

Adam never lost consciousness, not through the entire journey, but he lost focus. It seemed as if he and the woman were flying at some point, but that seemed impossible. And yet, no more impossible than anything else that had happened to him. He tried to pay attention, listen for clues, but as much as he willed his mind and body to work, his mind and body shot back that all their energy had left, and to come back tomorrow around noon-time.

Thus, the trip was a kaleidoscope of images and sounds that he could not quite put into order. He was only aware, as his mind finally started to obey itself, that he knew at some point he had been put into this cage, and that he was unsurprised to find himself in what appeared to be a spartan laboratory, with signs on the walls declaring he was located at Marbas Biotechnology.

Nobody was there at the moment, and so he forced himself to inspect the cage for weakness; he had only the strength to move around for a few minutes, but it was enough to convince him that he was securely locked in. Who had him, or why, he did not know. All he knew was that he would have to wait for answers. And so he lay down in his cage, and he prayed to whatever force animated the universe that he would see Stephanie again, or that at least these people would lie to her, tell her he was dead. He wanted her spared the grief and pain he’d heard from her, wanted her to live a good life. That was all he wanted. If he could see her again, that was a bonus. But if not – if not, he wanted her to be happy.

Outside a nondescript office building in a nondescript suburb of a nondescript American city, an Irish Goddess fluttered in the air, kept out by the powerful ring of evil that suffused the atmosphere. She could go in, she knew, but her power would weaken with each step, and she was not prepared to fight for the soul of Adam White.

But she could still hear his prayer. And she could whisper, softly, that she would do all she could to grant it. And with that, she lit off for her homeland. She would go to see The Morrígan. If She couldn’t help, nobody could.

And in a cage in a spartan laboratory, Adam White relaxed. He did not know how he knew, but he knew he was not alone. He would have to be patient. He would have to have faith.

1Even the Gods do not fight necessity

Chapter Eight

Ἢ τὰν ἢ ἐπὶ τᾶς¹

She drew looks, even here, which did not surprise her; she was enough to make most anyone who lusted for men reconsider. Indeed, on a different night, in a different time, she might have tried to convince on of them to do just that, just for the fun of it. But this was not the night for trifling diversions, no matter how attractive the men making out with each other were. For one thing, she had serious business to attend to. And for another – well, loath as she was to say it, she simply would not be able to compete with the boy at the center of the floor.

He was beautiful – olive skin, jet-black hair done just-so, a dangling arrow earring catching the light. He wore a stylish shirt that managed to be loose-fitting and yet show off his toned physique – a gymnast’s build, strong and toned yet supple and lithe. Of course, if the shirt failed, his trousers were tight enough to make the same point, tailored to emphasize that there was a bulge in front of not inconsiderable size.

She smiled, watching him dance with a tall, dark man wearing a sleeveless white t-shirt and bulging muscles. It was unfair of her to drop in like this – he was working, after all – but she needed help, and there was nobody she trusted more.

She caught his eye, and smiled at the double-take, one of the few she’d absorbed that was not related to her beauty. He wouldn’t be expecting her, of course, not here, not now. But he was a man of good heart, and he would not turn her away. And so he brushed the man’s cheek with a kiss, handed him a folded slip of paper, and danced his way over to her, greeting her with kisses on both cheeks.

“Mother! What a lovely surprise!” he said, ebuliently, as he motioned to the bartender for drinks. “What brings you to South Beach?”

“Eros, dear, I wish it were better circumstances. It seems your step-father has taken up with The Adversary.”

The lovely young man gasped. “Hermes? You’re kidding! I never imagined he could do something like that.”

Aphrodite laughed for the first time in days. “No, dearest – I should remember to be specific. You do have a number of stepfathers. Hephaestus – he’s the one.”

Eros literally put a hand over his mouth. “No! You’re kidding! Heph? I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it,” said Aphrodite, filling her son in on the bet and its fallout. So serious was the news that by the end of the soliloquy, neither one of them was looking at the boys on the dance floor.

“So you’re going to bring this up during your hearing before the Council, right?”

“It’s not relevant,” Aphrodite said. “The Adversary is a God, like you, like Hephaestus, like me. He has rights, and Hephaestus is allowed to make side bets. Hergensheimer v. Yhwh is the controlling precedent, and the Council isn’t going to ignore it.”

Eros stared blankly at his mother.

“It’s precedent. The case was appealed up to Al’yah Herself, with the ruling –”

“I know the case. I’m stunned that you do. You’ve never been much for the Deeper Laws.”

“Maybe I’m just getting older. Even Hephaestus said I’m growing up.”

“Oh, I’ve known that ever since you gave your granddaughter dominion over lust for women – I mean, mom, do the Gods know that you’re pretty much retired?”

“Retired? No, no, I keep tabs on you and Voluptas. You’ve done lovely work with lust for men, she’s done lovely work on lust for women, and I like that you’ve been pushing the wider world to accept both from all sorts of different people – or the same people, as may be. It’s perfect, and much more harmonious than it ever was when I was trying to oversee things while giving you just the sliver of authority over male love for other men – that let it get out of balance with the mortals, let them start declaring it something apart from love, which it never was…but you know this, dear, I’m just…I’ve made so many mistakes that I find myself, in my old age, regretting them. Like you and dear Psyche. How is she, by the way?”

Eros grinned. “She’s been helping Voluptas on her rounds, when I’ve been busy on mine. But we make time for each other. We’re both a bit…well, the mortals would call it bi-curious. And immortality’s too long for monogamy. But…well, she’s pretty as any of the boys on the floor. Pretty as you, I daresay.”

Aphrodite smiled at that, and said, warmly, “You know, that’s the first time you’ve dared admit that in front of me.”

“Perhaps I believe you when you say you’re more mature, mother. These last three, four centuries, you’ve been downright enlightened.”

“I’m just trying to be a better Goddess than I’ve been, son,” she said, smiling ruefully. “And failing.”

“You’re not failing. You’ve done great things. These projects you’ve been working on – Psyche and I were talking about that one with the guy you made into a flea on his lover’s body, made him see she was in love with another? That was brilliant! I mean, really, first-rate stuff. I’m kidding that you’re retired. You’re working around the edges – picking your battles. Not butting up against all the other Love Gods and Love Goddesses in the world. Even if Freyr is fun to butt up against….

“So,” said Eros, after a brief reverie, “what can I do to help you? Are you looking to make Hephaestus fall in love with an ass? Miss the trial?”

“I only wish that would make a difference. No, you know the rules. I am not allowed to interfere in what is going on. I can only go out and complain about such things to others, perhaps ask them to look in on things for me – but not to interfere. Were I to ask you to interfere, you would not be able to.”

“Even if you didn’t, it would be tough. You and Hephaestus have a binder. I’m tied to you both. So it obviously won’t work.”

“Obviously not.”

Eros smiled. “It would be reckless of me to go out and see if someone else would be interested in checking up on Adam, of course.”

“Why, of course it would,” said Aphrodite, smiling back. “And I would directly tell you not to do so. If I thought for a minute you’d do that.”

“Well, you needn’t think that,” said Eros.

“I’m glad.”

“I wish there was something I could do, though.”

“Well…there is one thing I can ask of you. I have no binder with The Adversary. I cannot interfere or help Adam get back to his Stephanie, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try to find out what The Adversary and Hephaestus are planning. Unfortunately, I have a great deal to do between now and the hearing.”

“Say no more,” said Eros. “I’d be happy to look into it. Any idea on where to go for help? I’d ask Freyja, but she’s on the Council.”

“Go to the God-Teachers’ Guild. Merlin may be able to help you, or at least direct you to someone who can. We have but a few weeks of Earth-time, though; please hurry.”

“We go tonight, mother,” said the man. “I have just one quick errand, and then I go to the afterworld.” And spreading his great wings, he sailed through the ceiling, leaving the discotheque far behind.

Aphrodite smiled as her most beloved son departed, and finished her drink. She left the club quickly; she had no time for temptation tonight.

* * *

“And you ask us to believe that?”

Stephanie wanted to punch someone. She wanted to reach through the camera and strangle Jayne Jordan. But that wouldn’t help Adam. And so she breathed deeply, and wiping her eyes, she continued.

“Jayne, had I wanted to get rid of Adam…time was going to do that for us. And it was moving too fast already. I didn’t – I don’t want to lose Adam a second before I have to. I would never, never, never hurt him.”

“And yet you agree that you were at best irresponsible?”

Stephanie dropped her head. “Look, if people want to hate me, hate me. If people want to think I’m stupid, or irresponsible, or somehow wanted this – I don’t care. It’s not about me. Take me to jail, kill me. But for God’s sake…for God’s sake, Adam doesn’t deserve to be lost. He deserves to be home for his last days on earth. I will hate myself forever, hate myself forever, for failing to ensure that. But I will spend every moment of the rest of my life trying to find him, and I will not rest until he’s home, and safe.”

Across half a continent, Jayne Jordan pursed her lips. Her usual schtick would have her going in for the kill here. Stephanie White may not be guilty; half the poor schmucks who came on her show were not guilty, but that didn’t mean Jayne didn’t bare her claws when the moment came to strike. It had built her solid ratings and a great following among Women 25-49.

But something in Stephanie’s voice made her pause. The jaded host had to admit that she found herself…believing.

This wouldn’t do. She tried in the moment to shake the feeling off, but it didn’t abate immediately. And so instead of closing with “Well, that sounds lovely, but we’ll see,” as her teleprompter suggested she did, Jayne said, simply, “We all hope he comes home safe, Mrs. White. We all do. We’ll be right back,” she said.

* * *

“Pfft. Let her off the hook,” Sharon murmured.

“She totally did it,” David agreed, turning the television off. “Not that I blame her.”

Sharon sighed. “I know, God’s will, right?”

“Look…the guy…it wasn’t natural. I mean, whatever was doing that…it wasn’t God, that’s for sure. I’m not saying I’d kill the guy, but I sure wouldn’t let him hang out in my bed, either.”

“Mmm. He’d get in the way, anyhow.”

The squeaking of bedsprings announced to the six-and-a-half inch tall artifact of the devil under the bed that his two giant captors were preparing to make a match for the nine-month-old who was sleeping in the adjoining room. Four days he’d been here, hiding in the home of giants who were, at best, indifferent to his surviving another day.

Adam punched his palm with his fist, and tried to ignore the moaning above. He was getting smaller, but that wasn’t the end of the world. Indeed, he was counting on it. He’d been too big to sneak out when he’d come here, though he hadn’t worried about such things. Indeed, when he awoke after being brought into the Andersons’ home, he had planned to introduce himself as soon as the giant couple awoke. But something had convinced him to go to sleep under their bed, in a small space between two storage boxes. He was grateful that he’d done so, for the next morning the news had carried his disappearance early and often, causing his heart to knot as he heard the despondency in Stephanie’s voice – and far worse, the self-hatred. He had been about to head straight out when he heard the wife mutter to her husband, “So, you think she killed him?”

“Huh? No, probably God righting what the devil had done.”

“I don’t know,” the woman said. “I mean, you really agree with Rev. Dobbins?”

“The Antichrist is a great deceiver. And in the end times, he is supposed to do miracles to show his greatness. I do wonder if that freak was supposed to be some sort of herald. Anyhow, either his wife killed him or God took him, and I say good.”

“Hmm. Well, even if she didn’t do it, his wife’s probably glad. Can you imagine trying to fuck that thing?”

“Well, I never would. But yeah, I mean, he’s not even twice as big as my cock, is he?”

“Hmm…we could measure….”

“Mmmm…but then I’d be late for work. And I can’t be, Sharon. But tonight, after Kayla’s in bed…we’ll take a look.”

Adam had watched the conversation in horror, a conversation not made better by the fact that Sharon was quite attractive, nor that from his vantage point, peeking out from under the bed skirt, he could see that she wore no panties under her night gown.

He wasn’t sure that they’d turn on him if he showed himself. Indeed, had he done so, Adam would have discovered that David’s talk was mostly bluster, and that confronted with a real human being, he and Sharon would have helped as best they could. But Adam could not know that, and he did not take the chance.

And so for four days he waited. Sharon was a stay-at-home mom, and while Adam thought maybe he’d make a phone call to Stephanie, it turned out that the Andersons had converted to a cell-only existence. Worse, they kept their house hermetically sealed, even at night. Though he looked in the late hours for a screen or a hole he could scramble through, he had come up empty.

It was the morning after his wife’s appearance on the Jayne Jordan show that he finally got his chance. He had left the underside of the bed when he heard snoring, frankly unable to deal with the sounds of a couple in love. And so he’d gone out to the kitchen and gathered a few crumbs from under the baby’s chair, and then sequestered himself under a chair under the living room to sleep.

Not long after waking, about an hour after David departed for work, he heard a crunching and snapping and groaning sound. Peeking out, he saw that Sharon was assembling a stroller, easily folding the building-sized object quickly into position.

“Do you want to go see Maggie? Do you?” she said to the girl as she walked over to the play area by the television, where Kayla was busy stacking blocks. Adam couldn’t help but be dazzled as Sharon dropped her full body to sit by her enormous, tiny daughter. Sharon was a beauty, and though not done up by any means, her simple t-shirt and jeans showed off a figure that had snapped back nicely from childbirth. The picture of a pretty mom and her pretty child stabbed Adam in the gut; it was a picture he would never see with his wife.

But he stifled the longing for long enough to rush out the other side of the couch. Sharon was distracted. That gave him enough time to rush for the stroller, where – happily – the diaper bag was already ensconced in the lower carrying area. Adam jumped for the mesh walls that surrounded it, and pulled himself up as quickly as he could, dropping over the side just as a series of thuds announced that Sharon was approaching.

There were a series of clicks above, and the groaning of the tremendous weight of the baby, and then they were off, out into the wild green yonder. Adam hid beneath the diaper bag, looking for a good place to escape.

Soon enough, they came to a park, pulling up to a parking-lot expanse of blanket, where another pretty mom sat with a slightly older baby. Sharon joined the mom, and while Kayla and Maggie looked at the grass, rattles, and each other, the moms talked about life.

This was his opportunity. Adam quickly pulled himself back over the side, and keeping low, under the tall grass, slithered on his belly until he was safely behind the women.

It was a large suburban park in mid-day; he could see houses in the distance, a few enormous kids playing on a playground. He had to get help, but he didn’t know which way to go. After a few minutes spent despairing, he finally stood up and headed for what looked to be a picnic shelter in the distance.

Had he headed for the playground, he would have run into a mom who was watching her daughter during the day, before going in to the precinct that night. Had he headed to the houses, he would have come to the home of a pilot, who would have been more than happy to use his flight benefits to get Adam back home. Heck, had he turned and run to Sharon and her friend, Stephanie would have been called in minutes.

But he headed for the shelter.

Perhaps it was the way it had to be.

1Loosely, “Return either with your shield, or on it.” The admonition of Spartan mothers to their sons before battle. Returning with their shield meant they had fought bravely; the dead were borne back on their shields.

Chapter Seven

Ποικιλόθρον’, ἀθάνατ’ Ἀφρόδιτα,
παῖ Δίος, δολόπλοκε, λίσσομαί σε
μή μ’ ἄσαισι μήτ’ ὀνίαισι δάμνα,
πότνια, θῦμον·

–Σαπφώ, Θραύσμα 1, “Ύμνος στην Αφροδίτη”

Iridescent-throned Aphrodite, deathless
Child of Zeus, wile-weaver, I now implore you,
Don’t–I beg you, Lady–with pains and torments
Crush down my spirit.

–Sappho, Fragment #1, “Hymn to Aphrodite”

The first thing Adam was aware of was nausea. He doubled over briefly, retching, but nothing came up.

That was when he became aware of darkness.

He struggled to put together what exactly was going on. He had a vague recollection of something…they’d been on the beach. Yeah, they’d been on the beach, and Stephanie wanted to go snorkeling, but she didn’t right away, but he said she should, and then that woman came up with the pen, but it wasn’t a pen, it sprayed something, and then….

…and then he was here. His head throbbed, and his stomach twisted, but he forced himself up into a sitting position, forced his eyes open.

He threw aside some fabric that was draped over him like a blanket, but that didn’t increase the light significantly. He was in a chamber. No – no, not a chamber. He could see on the ceiling the clear zig-zag pattern of a zipper. The light behind it was grayish and dim, so obviously whatever room lay beyond it was not lit up too brightly. Still, it told him he was in a suitcase, or a carry-on. It was too big to be a purse.

He struggled to his feet. He needed to figure out what was going on. Stephanie must be mad with fear by now, and he didn’t want her to blame herself. He’d insisted she go, and he’d do it again. She deserved a good life. He just hoped that she wouldn’t feel like this was somehow her fault. He couldn’t bear that.

* * *

This is all my fault, Stephanie thought, as she paced the floor at the police station.

Six hours Adam had been missing, and he could be almost anywhere by now. She cursed herself repeatedly as she thought back to stupid decisions. They should have stayed home, they should have stayed in America, they shouldn’t have come out on a cruise – and she damn sure never should have left him alone, not even for a moment. Precious few moments were left, how could she be so selfishly stupid?

She told herself that she’d done it because he’d suggested it, that she’d done it to make him feel more human. But that didn’t console her. It made the pain worse. Because she had a responsibility to him, to keep him safe, to keep him with her until the bitter end.

She’d promised.

The past few hours had been horrible. After the agony of finding him gone, she found herself trying to explain in her broken high school Spanish that her doll-sized husband was missing. The federales were as understanding as could be expected, but remained rather perplexed until one officer remembered seeing something about Adam on television. That got things moving a bit, and soon enough she was put in touch with the consul in Méridia. The consul was on her way, which was supposed to be comforting, but which just left Stephanie pacing, and blaming herself, and waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

* * *

The zipper on the bag was not moving, that much was sure. Adam wasn’t sure if it was locked outside, or if he just was too little to move the slider, but frankly, it didn’t matter. He did feel that escape was his best option; after all, almost anyone had to be better than whomever had him. They might not want to kidnap him, and that was more than he could say for his captor.

He had figured some things out, at least. He was on an airplane – he’d heard the call for tray tables to be stowed, and seatbacks put in their full upright position. They were en route to George H.W. Bush Intercontinental in Houston, which gave him some hope – while his captor might be American, she’d still have to go through customs. They might check the bag. He hoped.

He called out a few times, hoping to attract attention – he could hear a mother and child talking through one wall of the bag, which, combined with the groaning of springs above, told him he was stowed under a seat. But while he shouted and banged on the bag, nobody appeared to hear him; it didn’t surprise him. The walls of the bag were soft and plush, and he expected it had been doctored in preparation for him.

No, it appeared he’d have to hope that customs officials would find him, or at least, that he would get the chance to escape in the airport. If he ended up wherever he was being taken, he doubted he’d be free ever again.

* * *

Stephanie was angrier after her initial conversation with the consul than she was before. While the federales had been helpful, the consul had been skeptical. She asked repeatedly why Stephanie had gone snorkeling, as if disbelieving her story. When she pointed out that one statement given to the federales backed her up, the consul seemed almost annoyed at that fact.

The consul had explained, impatiently, that there was nothing much that could be done – Adam’s “condition” made it unlikely that he would be spotted randomly. If he was found, it would be because he escaped. They had no leads, save for the one statement by a fellow cruise passenger, who said he’d noticed a pretty blonde woman talking to Adam – but didn’t see much more, as he was on his honeymoon, and was more interested in ogling his wife.

And of course, pretty blonde women are not a rarity on the beaches of Mexico.

So Stephanie was given a plane ticket back home and advice to check in with police there as soon as she arrived, and a condescending pat on the shoulder. At least the cruise line said they’d take care of sending her things along. She couldn’t go back to their honeymoon suite. Not now.

* * *

It wasn’t long after the bag was pulled out from its hiding place that Adam found himself surprised by the zipper parting. He stood up defiantly, as if hoping to be spotted.

It was the pretty blonde from the beach, wearing a scowl. “You’re awake,” she whispered, pointedly.

“Damn right I’m awake! Let me go!” Said Adam, as he moved for the side wall. He walked right into a backhand that sent him sprawling.

“If you don’t want to die,” the woman said, as he lay in a heap, “you’ll get back between those shirts and stay put.”

Adam lay on the ground, in a great deal of pain and rage. He knew, somehow, that this woman wasn’t bluffing – she’d kill him. But in the pit of his soul, he knew that wasn’t going to change whether he stayed put like a good boy or not.

He got to his knees, and looked up at his captress. “Okay,” he said, “you win.” He got up on both feet, and launched himself forward.

The move caught the woman by surprise. He grabbed the open side of the bag and pulled himself over, throwing himself over the side and into the abyss. He fell the equivalent of nearly thirty feet, but adrenaline and his small size made sure he could bounce up cleanly.

The woman grunted in rage, but she didn’t have a chance to get to him, as he dodged and weaved through a sea of legs and bags. He was looking for something, some way through….

He saw it presently – a diaper bag, laying by the feet of a mom who was paying no attention to her bags at all, just kicking them forward as she and her husband cooed over a titanic infant. The bag was open just enough that he could throw himself into it, pulling himself deep past jumpers and bottles into the depths of the bag, as the mother’s enormous foot gave it another shove forward.

He felt the bag shudder after a moment, and some muffled shouting as it was picked up by the woman, the husband yanking it back, pulling the bag so fast that Adam felt himself blacking out. This would make it hard to draw the attention of customs agents, but at least he wasn’t a prisoner anymore….

* * *

“Look, lady, this is my daughter’s diaper bag. It isn’t your bag,” David said, yanking the bag away from the crazy woman who’d just grabbed it.

“But…but…it…uh…looks so much like…I mean, if I could just check…you know, inside….”

“That’s our bag,” Sharon said, bouncing her baby girl, who had started crying. “It’s even embroidered with Kayla’s name, see?”

“But…I mean…you don’t understand….it’s important….”

“Look, lady, what I understand is that you just came up and grabbed my daughter’s diaper bag without saying a word, and if I hadn’t seen you, I have a feeling that it would be your diaper bag right now. Why you want a diaper bag is beyond me – but I’m betting you didn’t think it was a diaper bag. I bet you thought it was a purse.”

The woman stared at David, nonplussed.

“Now,” he said, lowering his voice, “this line is long, and moving slow, and luckily for you, we’re still a ways away from customs, so the cops didn’t see your little attempt at thievery. But if you’d like me to go tell them what you tried to do, I’d be happy to. Fortunately for you, though, I’m tired from our vacation, and I’m ready to go home, and the paperwork sounds like a lot of trouble. So if you’ll shut up, get back in line, and leave us the hell alone, I’ll let it drop. But if you keep pushing, or if you’re stupid enough to try anything else, I swear you’ll wish you’d stayed in Mexico. Got it?”

The woman nodded, dumbly, and stumbled back through the line. So close – so close! He would be furious with her, that was for sure. But she would have to take His correction with grace. She would have to endure it, so that she could get back out and find this prize. Much depended on it, she knew. She would not fail, not in the end.

* * *

Aphrodite stormed into the café, angrier than she’d been in at least three thousand years. “Hephaestus!” She called, espying her estranged husband at a table, “how dare you ignore me!”

The room ignored her outburst, as she and her husband were not showing themselves at present, but even still, the patrons felt the chill wind blowing through the coffee shop.

“Aphrodite, you’re facing me before the Council. We shouldn’t be meeting. Unless you’re looking to concede.”

“Hephaestus, I know you got my message. The Adversary is taking advantage of this for His goals. We can’t let that happen.”

“The Adversary is no different than any of us Gods, Aphrodite. He has a very important role – God of Sorrow, God of Evil, God of Hate. For if there was no hate….”

“…there could be no love, yes, I know all about The Adversary’s role in the multiverse, and how His job is as important as Al’yah’s Herself, but that doesn’t mean we should stand idly by and watch our bet be perverted into sorrow and hatred. That was not the aim of this bet. Concede, Hephaestus.”

“Never,” the God of Smiths said.

“All right,” Aphrodite said, swallowing her pride. “All right, though I swear I have defeated you, I will agree with you to end the contract. I will withdraw my appeal, and I will remain your wife, if in name only. And you can draw what conclusions about women that you will. And we can get Adam and Stephanie together, as they deserve.”

Hephaestus sipped his espresso, but said nothing.

“Did you hear me, Hephaestus? I said I will break the contract! I will agree to those terms!”

“I withdraw that offer,” said Hephaestus. “I will not allow the contract to be broken.”

“Do you want me that badly?” said Aphrodite, a tear gracing her lovely olive cheek. “Is that it? Then allow me to concede all but women’s folly. I will be the wife to you that you want. But…allow these mortals their love, too.”

Hephaestus started at that, and looked up at Aphrodite, eyes wide. “You would promise that? You…you would, wouldn’t you? By Zeus, you have grown up.”

He stared down at his cup. “It is a pity.”

Aphrodite stared at him, drinking in those words. And she looked down, as she dared to comprehend them.

“It was never about women. Or me. You were working for The Adversary the whole time.”

“He made me an offer,” said Hephaestus, “that I couldn’t refuse. Not even for you. But,” the God said, taking another sip, “that doesn’t mean I don’t still see our bet as meaningful. Nor that I will not grant you divorce if, after twenty years….”

“Fuck you,” said Aphrodite, rising. “You want to work with The Adversary? Your right. He is, as you noted, but a God like the rest of us. But do not think that I will not fight you with all my power and all my fury, to my destruction, if need be.”

She turned on her heel, and began to stride out of the room.

“You know you can’t interfere. The deeper magic prevents it, so long as our contract is in force.”

“Do not lecture me about the deep magic, bastard,” Aphrodite said. “Unlike you, I will play fairly. And I will still win.”

And with a sniff, she was gone. She had someone she needed to see – and right away.

Chapter Six

Ἐκ τῶν ὧν οὐκ ἄνευ[1]

Time passed, as time does. Adam stood now less than two feet high — 19¾ inches, just over 50 centimeters, easily the shortest adult male in the world. Indeed, the Guinness people had certified him during an appearance on the Jayne Jordan Show two nights before, on the eve of his wedding day.

Now, he sat in the airport in a seat the size of a sofa, waiting to board a flight for his honeymoon.

Some ways away, observing from an airport bar, sat two figures whose presence would have spoken poorly about airport security, as they had simply walked through the TSA checkpoint without even removing their shoes. Of course, Gods are allowed some leeway that mortals are not.

“So, are you willing to concede?” the female asked, as she watched the tiny man snuggle up to the side of the woman three times his size.

“Concede? Whatever for?”

“They’re married, aren’t they? It was on the news, see?” she said, pointing at a monitor, which was showing what all the photographers had agreed was the hero shot – Stephanie kneeling down to kiss Adam, softly but fully on the lips. The shot was already being readied for the next edition of People.

“Married, schmarried. Marriage isn’t the end of the story, my wayward wife. You and I know that better than any of these mortals. The test isn’t over until it’s run its full course.”

“She’s not going to break,” said Aphrodite, sighing. “You could at least show them the kindness of not continuing this. Haven’t they suffered enough?”

“Suffered? This is what volitionals were made for, dearest. To test. To answer our questions for us. You ruined poor Paris’s life just to prove you were hotter than Athena and Hera (and frankly, you had him when you disrobed); don’t lecture me on sympathy.”

“I’m thousands of years older than I was then, and a good deal wiser. I am more attractive than Athena and Hera, but I don’t feel the need to show if off anymore. If it happened now, Hera could have the damned apple.

“But you’re right, marriage is just a mile-marker, it isn’t a destination, no matter what the stories claim. We’ll leave them alone. See if they live happily ever after. But at some point, you will concede.”

Hephaestus was silent.

“You will concede eventually, right?”

“How long did Penelope wait for Ulysses to come home, Aphrodite? Twenty long years, she waited, though she knew not whether he was alive or dead. Twenty years of a mortal life! She remained faithful to her husband though she had suitors aplenty. And you are pestering me to concede now?”

Aphrodite stared, nonplussed. When she gathered herself, she found she was quaking with rage. “Surely,” she said, “you would not be so petty as to require of these two twenty years of heartache simply on the chance it would prove your point? Surely you would not force this woman to live a life of chastity long after all hope of seeing or communicating with her husband was past?”

“Why not? It was good enough for the ancients.”

“We were awful to the ancients. They put up with far more than they ever should have,” said Aphrodite.

“They were stoic. Not like these hedonists. You’re telling me that this girl can’t keep her legs crossed for a couple decades? Some champion for womankind.”

“Penelope is still lauded today simply because her actions were so unusual! That kind of faithfulness borders on pathological; Ulysses had no right to expect his wife to be faithful to him, especially as he spent a year fucking our cousin Circe.”

“Why not mention Calypso?” Hephaestus asked with a thin smile. “She had him for seven years, if I recall.”

“Because Calypso kidnapped and raped him, precious husband. But he bedded Circe with eyes wide open – even had her swear by your name and mine, and all our brothers’ and sisters’ names too, that she wouldn’t steal his manhood – the vagabond had no problem getting his carnal needs met. But Penelope? She’s supposed to keep her legs crossed. And this is what you say dear Stephanie must do? You are more blind than I thought.”

“Hmpf. You are awfully quick to ask for my concession. And awfully impatient that the deed be done, and right quick. Not bloody likely, but I’ll offer you this: you can break the contract, if you wish,” said Hephaestus.

“No chance,” replied Aphrodite, angrily. “You are simply looking to force me to break the contract because you know you have lost. I should have known better to trust your word. No, Hephaestus, I thought you knew that I was tougher than that. I will not accede to your wishes.”

“Then we wait,” he said.

“No. We do not.”

“Then what in Zeus’ name do you suggest we do?”

“I shall appeal to The Council of Thirteen.”

“Appeal?” scoffed the God of Artisans. “Do you really think The Council will give you a fair hearing?”

“Whether they do or not is Their decision, not yours nor mine,” said Aphrodite. “I must place this in Their hands. My responsibility to this couple and to women generally requires it. If The Council wishes to punish me for what I once was….”

“Athena’s on the Council, you know.”

“She’s no more likely to favor you,” shot Aphrodite.

“You’ll lose,” said Hephaestus, straightening himself.

“We’ll see,” said Aphrodite, as she vanished.

* * *

Adam shifted uncomfortably in the chair, while Stephanie perused the paperwork for the cruise; they had purchased this trip back before…well, back before. And he was willing to go on it because Stephanie wanted to; she didn’t quite say that she wanted to go on the honeymoon because it would be their last vacation together, but he knew the thought had gone through her head. The thought had gone through his head. How could it not?

The wedding had been lovely, everything he’d hoped for. Since he’d reached his breaking point that night, that awful night, the night he’d pondered suicide…he’d finally found some balance. He was dying; he knew it. He didn’t want to die, and he was scared, but there was no stopping it. Scientists had taken measurements of his gait, his head, his legs, his arms, and declared that physically, he shouldn’t be able to walk like he did. One doctor admitted that the whole thing seemed not just apart from medicine, but a violation of the laws of physics. They didn’t know how to stop it. They didn’t even know how it was happening in the first place. No, they would not be able to stop it. He might get lucky and stay large enough for Stephanie to talk to, to see, to hear, to love. He thought if he could stay even a couple of inches tall…

…but he admitted to himself that he probably had about two months left. Two months before he was a millimeter tall, give or take a few days. His reduction in size had worse and better days, but on average he’d lost about ten percent of his height each day since it started. (Ten percent of his width and depth, too – or eventually he’d have ended up a pancake; he wondered, idly, if that would be better. No – there were advantages to being human in form, even if he was too small.)

He looked over at Stephanie, who was still radiant despite the fact that they’d partied late into the night. He saw her in his mind’s eye, decked out in her lovely white dress, her mammoth form collapsing down toward him; he was just a bit over knee-high, and she appeared to be nearly eighteen feet tall. She had chosen a dress that accentuated her décolletage – he hadn’t known, but he heartily approved. Her breasts were enormous, and delicious, and he could have stared at them forever as they came to dominate his view, except then her face approached, and he saw her huge, blue eyes blinking back tears of joy and pain, tears that mirrored his own, and that he could have stared at forever and a day. And she kissed him with those amazing lips, and he kissed back as best he could. And in that moment, he realized –

“Excuse me, but – I’m sorry, I just saw you and, well, I mean, I can’t believe it’s really you two!”

The girl was a teenager, maybe, or maybe in her early twenties – people were all so big that it was getting hard for him to tell. She was lovely, wearing a skimpy halter-top and denim jeans, obviously more than ready for her vacation to begin. He sighed at the interruption, and forced a smile. “I assume we’re us,” he said, repeating the line that he used in these situations. “I’m Adam White, this is my – my wife,” he said, realizing that Stephanie was his wife.

“I’m Aimee. I think it’s sooooo amazing how you’ve been able to cope with all of this. I mean, it’s just gotta be hard on both of you, but you got married! I mean, I saw it on the news – it’s awesome!”

The girl babbled on, while Stephanie and Adam nodded, occasionally exchanging meaningful glances. Aimee had wanted her parents to take her picture with Adam sitting on her lap; Stephanie had given Adam a sportive grin, and said she’d be happy to take the picture. Adam had been perched precariously on the comely lass’s lap, his head resting against her breasts. Stephanie had to stifle a laugh as she took the picture, and handed the camera to Aimee.

“Bet you didn’t know that all you’d have to do to get the ladies was shrink,” she said, kissing his forehead. “Do I need to be jealous?”

Adam fought back the brief pang of despair; he knew Stephanie was teasing him. “She’s too young. I think. How old do you think she is?”

“She’s in high school. So I don’t think it would be legal, even if you intended to stray. But now that the first girl has broken our protective zone, I’m sure others will be coming.”

“Well,” he said, looking at the tiny ring that had been fashioned for him (it had been fashioned from a strip of gold, along with three smaller rings and one that would fit him if he should revert to full height – hope springs eternal), “it’s just lucky for you that you got this ring on my finger when you still had the chance.”

“I know it,” said Stephanie, bittersweetly. “I know it.”

* * *

Stephanie’s prediction had come true. There were pictures to be taken, autographs to sign. The old couple who simply came over to express their congratulations were their favorites; they were heading down to Florida for their fiftieth wedding anniversary. They were both jealous; though neither said it, both knew they were going to end up 49 years, 10 months short of that.

Stephanie tried to keep an even keel, though it was hard. The wedding reception the night before had taken on the tenor of an Irish wake; nobody quite said that Adam was dying, but everyone in the room had known it. She remembered when her grandfather was dying, the last few weeks, when he couldn’t move, couldn’t eat, couldn’t talk, but his eyes – his eyes were still lively as ever. He knew full well what was going on. He could see the end coming. So could Stephanie.

She saw the end coming again.

Adam spent most of the flight on Stephanie’s lap, his head resting against her left breast, lightly dozing. She liked having him there; she felt, however irrationally, that she could protect him. That her body could deflect any dangers from her tiny husband, that she could keep him safe from the oncoming storm. But she knew that the danger was within his body, that he would slip further and further from her grasp, until one day he was gone.

She didn’t want to say it, though. Not yet. There would be time for goodbyes, and then…then she would keep her promise. However hard that would be.

*  *  *

Getting checked in was relatively easy; there was minor confusion, as Stephanie and Adam had been upgraded to a larger suite courtesy of the cruise line, which was loving the attention the minor celebrities had brought to it. But it took just a few minutes of confusion before they were heading to their cabin, Adam running to keep up with the giants (he had stubbornly refused to let Stephanie carry him; he knew he’d have to give up very soon, but he wanted to walk on his own for as long as he could). The cabin boy was leading the way, with Stephanie falling behind to stay near to Adam; they turned a corner, and Adam raced around it to keep up, when he collided with a moving body and was sent flying.

“Adam!” he heard Stephanie call, as he woozily rolled over. The guy he collided with must be build like a Mack Truck. He turned around to see the concerned person looking down on him.

“Wow, are you okay?” the girl asked. She couldn’t have been more than five or six, with braids on either side of her head, and a soft, quizzical gaze; clearly, she was not used to seeing 1’8” men wherever she was from.

“I’m fine,” Adam said, grabbing the hand the girl offered.

“Kenzie, what are you – my goodness, what happened?” said an immense thirtysomething woman, who was coming back for her wayward daughter, arriving just as Stephanie did. “Why – you’re that – that guy!” the behemoth said.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Adam said. “I ran into your daughter. Sorry, should have looked where I was going.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that you’re really small! I didn’t see you!” the little girl blurted out.

“I’m used to it,” he said. “Now go on with your mom.”

“I’m so sorry,” the mom said to Stephanie, almost not addressing Adam. “Kenzie needs to be more careful.”

“I’m fine,” Adam said. “It’s okay, really.”

As the mom pulled the girl along with her (the girl, for her part, was fascinated by the tiny adult she’d nearly flattened), Stephanie knelt down. “Are you okay?” she said.

“I’m fine,” Adam said, “but I think I will take you up on the offer to carry me the rest of the way.”

*  *  *

The room was smallish by room standards, largish by ship standards. Adam joked as he entered that they should have asked for a smaller cabin; it would make him feel more at home. But he was glad that Stephanie would have room to stretch out a bit, and while his ears were still ringing from the collision, he actually felt okay once they got settled. Home was where Steph was, after all, and as long as she was there with him, he’d be fine.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Stephanie asked for at least the fifth time. “You went flying.”

“Well, I only weigh five pounds. That kid weighs, I don’t know, like six thousand compared to me. But I’m fine, really. Just had the wind knocked out. What’s next?”

“Well,” said Stephanie, “we’re on our honeymoon. And while I’ve never been on one before, I’ve come to understand that the best part of most honeymoons is the sex.”

“Really,” Adam said. “Sex? You’re sure? I mean, I’ve been told that cruise ship buffets are really good. You don’t want to hit that first?”

“I’m enough bigger than you as it is, I don’t need to go adding weight. No, I think that we should get everything put away, go to the life preserver practice, and then come back and make out like sixteen-year-olds until dinner.”

“Can we make it twenty-year-olds?” Adam asked. “I was a lot better at making out at twenty than I was at sixteen.”

“Hmm,” Stephanie said, grinning, “come to think of it, you’re better now than you’ve ever been. Let’s make out like 28-year-olds.”

“Sounds good,” said Adam. Then, he paused. “You know, I wish with all my heart I could promise you that we’d be making out like 69-year-olds some day. Or even 29-year-olds.”

“Nobody can promise that,” said Stephanie, picking him up and cradling him in her arms, almost like he was an infant. She kissed him softly on the forehead. “I know, it’s…I don’t ever want to say goodbye to you,” she said. “But if nothing else, we get to make out like 28-year-olds, right? If nothing else, you’re my husband, ‘til death do us part.”

Adam smiled, just a bit. “I just wish,” he said, “that I was a long way from knowing when that would be.”

*  *  *

Celebrity is not all it’s cracked up to be. The lifeboat drill got them noticed by an unctuous crew member who said she’d been assigned to be their personal concierge for the trip; they were invited to the Captain’s Table for dinner, which meant rather than enjoying a long and leisurely fuck, they instead got to get dressed to the nines. Adam was self-conscious about sitting in the center of the room, but Stephanie claimed she got some good photos out of it, so he accepted it.

When at long last, they made it back to their cabin, they were a bit tired and annoyed. But not so tired and annoyed that they didn’t strip down rather quickly.

Stephanie picked him up and put him on her chest, laying between her two breasts, so she could look him in the eye.

Adam scooted up between the breasts, feeling their soft gelatinous warmth, he softness of Stephanie’s skin as his naked member slid along it. He reached out and steadied himself, placing a hand on both her cheeks. And then he kissed her, as hard as an 18½-inch-tall man can kiss a 21-foot-tall woman. He took in her tongue as she gently pressed it into his tiny mouth, and he pressed his tiny tongue against hers in a kiss that was a promise and a consecration.

They lay like that, simply kissing, for quite some time before they finally broke, and with a kiss on her chin, Adam slid backward down her chest and onto her stomach. He embraced her right breast, which was now bigger than his head. Her nipple was almost too big to suck on – he would miss that when it was gone, he thought, but he loved the detail he could see, as he kissed and sucked on her tit, watching her areolae crinkle and her nipple grow. He had seen this before, of course, many happy times. But the smaller he got, the more intricate detail he could make out.

It was the one thing that made this bearable – the smaller he got, the more of Stephanie there was. And there couldn’t possibly be too much of Stephanie.

He moved over to her left breast, as he always felt a need to be fair to the breasts. Then he slid back in between her thighs, and leaned against her sweaty sex, the enormous vulva, the bulb of her clit. He touched the lips, and as he had discovered he could last week, he slid his right arm in, all the way up to the elbow.

He worked his arm back and forth as he softly kissed her nubbin. She was growing slicker by the moment, as he slid his arms back and forth. And then, he paused just for a moment, and pulled his arm out.

“What’s wrong?” Stephanie rumbled, half-annoyed, half-concerned.

“I think…” said Adam, and then he threw caution to the wind, and dove head-first into the crevasse.

He couldn’t get more than neck-deep in, and he figured he probably shouldn’t stay here too long, lest he trigger an orgasm and end up with whiplash. But he kissed her inner lips, filling his whole person with her. He wanted to know, in a week or two, when his arm was too small, whether he himself could stomach the blast-furnace heat of Stephanie’s sex.

As he pulled his head out, he gasped for air and grinned. He could more than stomach it.

His head wet with her juices, he turned his attention back to her clit, and buried his arm in again. It was but a moment before Stephanie burst.

It was only the beginning of a long night, the first of several long nights. They’d make up for it by sleeping in. Or having sex during the day. Whatever worked.

When they finally finished for the night, sweaty and spent, Adam curled up next to his gigantic bride, and kissed her cheek once more as they drifted off. No matter how little time he had left, this was where he wanted to spend it.

*  *  *

“You’re asking a lot of The Council, Aphrodite.”

The young man adjusted his glasses, investigating her petition. In his lilting British accent, he said, “Ordinarily, this is the sort of thing that would be taken up at the general session in thirty-four Terran years.”

“That would be beyond the time upon which the respondent has allowed he would concede defeat. I hold that he is violating the spirit of our agreement, and that action is required now.”

“I can read, Aphrodite. But why the action now?”

“To save these volitionals the agony of separation. Believe me, if you set this for thirty-four years from now, I’ll simply amend the petition to demand temporal marking and repair.”

The Assistant Secretary chuckled at that. “You’re forceful, all right. Are you sure you never worked for a record company?”

Aphrodite smiled in spite of herself. “I have, actually, but not in legal. At any rate, I ask that this be placed for immediate hearing.”

“And they say I’m a dreamer,” the angel said, checking some boxes. “We may work in miracles here in the Central Office, but that’s beyond possible. Earliest I can set the hearing for is six weeks’ time.”

“Six weeks! He’ll be shrunk down to nothing by then!”

“Take it or leave it.”

Aphrodite sighed. She actually was doing better than she thought; she had expected to have this thrown out for a year, maybe two. Six weeks…that gave her a chance. “All right,” she said. “And please, express my appreciation to both St. Peter and Mr. Anansi.”

“Right, love,” said the man, scribbling a J.L. on a line, chuckling at the irony of it all. “Now, confidentially – you didn’t hear this from me – but I’d say you owe it to your little charge to keep an eye on him in the meanwhile.”

“Why?”

“Well, the Devil’s Advocate was in my office right before you were, trying to file paperwork preempting your challenge as irrelevant. I denied it of course – not that Beelzebub was surprised. Still, seems that there are other forces at work here that have taken an interest in your Mr. White.”

“Malakas!” swore Aphrodite, before looking up apologetically. “I’m sorry for the profanity….”

“Love, I’ve said far worse things than that. Just don’t go telling anyone I tipped you off.”

“I won’t. Thank you,” said the Goddess. And with that, she disappeared.

*  *  *

They lay on the Mexican beach, soaking up the sun. It was heavenly.

“It’s too bad we couldn’t go snorkeling,” Stephanie mused, lying on her stomach as her Ken doll-sized husband worked sunscreen into the back of her thighs.

He had insisted.

“There’s no reason you can’t,” he said, dropping into the valley between her legs, so as to better get the interior of them. “Just because the jellyfish would pack too big a wallop for me, that’s no reason you can’t go see them.”

“Aw, that’s swee…yeeeee…yuh. Don’t forget we’re in public, dear. Anyhow, that’s sweet, but there are some awfully big people here. I wouldn’t want to leave you to fend for yourself.”

“Aw, I can handle it.”

“Honey, you’re seven inches shorter than you were when this trip started,” Stephanie worried.

“I know,” said Adam, quietly, rather amazed as he stared through the canyon of Stephanie’s butt, looking down her twelve-foot-long torso. “But honey, how many chances will you get to go snorkeling in the Gulf of Mexico? I’ll be here when you get back. And I can put more lotion on you.”

“Mmm. And then I can peel those red swim trunks off you.”

“They peel off easy, they’re a bit big, you know.”

Stephanie giggled. “You’re sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’m sure. Go!”

A few minutes later, Adam was staring at his wife, who was striding magnificently into the ocean some distance away. He lay back on the field-sized towel, and sighed, and closed his eyes.

A few minutes passed, before he heard a voice. “Mr. White?”

He opened them, and stared up at a 34-foot-tall goddess in a skimpy string bikini. She bent down over him, her short blonde hair whipping in the wind. If he wasn’t married, he’d have found her incredibly attractive. Well, he still found her attractive. But attractive wasn’t enough to keep him from being annoyed.

“Yes?” he said, sighing. Autograph time, or maybe a picture. The price of unwanted fame.

*  *  *

Stephanie carried the glass carefully, and looked at the ground. “Hey, sweetie,” she called, their bag partly obscuring her view of the towel. “I grabbed a piña colada, I thought….”

Her view crested the bag, and she stopped dead.

Adam wasn’t on the towel.

She looked around, fighting the rising panic. He was probably nearby. Probably a group of coeds was taking a picture with him. That’s it, he’s just enjoying a group of six sorority sisters in skimpy swimsuits. She turned slowly, looking for a sign of him, and then she saw it, a wisp of red fabric on the ground.

His swim trunks.

Dropping the piña colada, Stephanie screamed.

Chapter Five

Μὴ χείρον βέλτιστον [1]

“Of course it’s hard, Steph. I’m amazed you’ve been able to hang in through all of this. ’Course, you’re tough.”

“Right,” Stephanie said, staring into her skim mocha latté. She wondered how many skim mocha lattés she’d stared into, talking about relationships falling apart, while Michael sipped on his chai, listening to her vent.

“No, really, I can’t imagine having to go through what you’re going through. You’re holding up really well.”

“I have to,” she said, quietly. “Adam…Adam needs me to be strong.”

“Of course he does,” Michael said. “Of course he does. But you have needs too.”

Stephanie laughed, bitterly. “You know, it’d be easier if he could pull out of his despair. I don’t blame him, I really don’t; God knows he has every reason to despair. If his height would just stabilize…I don’t mind him being smaller. It’s the not knowing when it’s going to stop…or if it’s going to stop.”

“You know, I read a story a while ago, about a guy in…I think it was England, but don’t quote me on that. Anyhow, he was a quadriplegic, totally paralyzed. And he worked it out so his wife and his best friend could have an ongoing affair. Said it saved his marriage.”

“What?”

“Oh, I’m not suggesting you have an affair,” Michael said, “but Adam’s going to have to start caring about your feelings at some point, or you’re going to fall apart.”

“That’s just it,” Stephanie said. “I think if he could get his feet on the ground, if he knew, say, eighteen inches tall, that’s it – I think he could live with that. We could plan, we could figure it out. He could start to rebound. But who knows where this ends? What if he’s the size of a grain of rice, too small for me to hear? How do we live like that? What if it doesn’t even stop there? I can’t…it’s worse than him being paralyzed. Lots of people are. We could figure it out. Hire a nurse, go through rehab, enjoy our time. But this is totally new. Totally new. And I just don’t have any idea how we’re going to make it. And as bad as it is for me, I know it’s worse for him. I mean, I’m not wearing toddler clothes. He is. I don’t need a stepstool to get onto the toilet. He does. I can still cook and clean and take pictures and do everything I ever could, and he can’t. And I feel so…it’s not right that I’m feeling this way when it’s not me going through this!”

“Feelings aren’t right or wrong,” Michael said. “They’re just feelings. You can’t control what you feel, you can only react to it. You feel like this is a big imposition on you, and it is. That’s not wrong. And yeah, you’re right, you owe it to Adam to suck it up a bit – I mean, that’s just the right thing to do. But you can’t be ashamed to have feelings of your own. And you need to vent now and again. I insist on it.”

“Thanks,” she said, smiling weakly. “I feel like an idiot, I haven’t even asked you how Molly’s doing.”

“Oh, we broke up a couple weeks ago,” Michael said, downing the last of the coffee. “Didn’t tell you – I know you’re going through worse.”

“I’m so sorry, Mike! I thought she was a keeper.”

“Yeah, well. It happens. Look, you call me when you need to talk, okay?”

They shuffled the coffee cups into the garbage, and they hugged for a long time, before they broke off and headed out on their separate paths.

*  *  *

Stephanie entered the house a bit warily, as the lights were all out. She hadn’t been gone so long that Adam would be asleep, she didn’t think. Frankly, if he was going to bed at 9:30, she’d take that as a sign that his depression had deepened to the point of despair, and she’d damn well demand that he go see a psychologist, for all the good that would do.

But as she entered the house, she saw that there was light coming from it, dim, and flickering. She opened the door, and the living room danced in the light of the half-dozen candles, all of which had been set ablaze.

“Adam?” she said, noting that the letters had all been piled neatly in a corner of the table. She saw a note on the middle of the table, with Adam’s handwriting, clear as always, though smaller, with two words written on it.

She smiled. His memory was sound. And if the candles were on lower shelves than they’d been before…well, she understood.

She bounded up the stairs, two at a time, remembering exactly when he’d first done this for her. Their second anniversary. She’d told him then that he could surprise her like this any time, and he did. Often. Until lately.

She entered the bedroom, where he was waiting in the light of the candles, naked. He smiled, then stammered, “I…we don’t…”

“Shhh.” Stephanie said.

She stripped down; they had done this many times. He waited, quietly, for her to lay face down on the towels that he had arranged on the bed, and then, he took out the oils, and began to massage her back.

Adam found quickly that this was not as easy as it had been when he was three feet taller; nevertheless, he found he was enjoying it. He’d taken a class on therapeutic massage in college, mainly because he thought it was a good place to meet girls, but he’d picked up a number of very good tips in that class that allowed him to keep girls once he’d met them. And he’d never met anyone – man or woman – who didn’t like a good massage.

Stephanie loved them. And he loved giving them to her, sliding his hands over her marvelous, toned body, working the oil into her creamy skin, his hands dancing over all the parts of her – all parts he loved. That there was more of her now (at least from his perspective) was not a bad thing. He had always enjoyed this; there was now more of it to enjoy. He put more force into it than he would have at full size, hoping he was equaling his previous output.

Stephanie, for her part, sighed contentedly as the small hands of her lover glided over her back. They weren’t pushing with the force they once did, but she didn’t mind at all. It was still pleasant and sensuous as ever, and she felt the worry about the future wash away as Adam slid his hands along her, caressing her back, her butt, her thighs…it was heavenly.

In due time, she rolled over, allowing him to work his way up her body from toes to breasts. When his face was over hers, she opened her eyes. This was always the point at which she demanded a happy ending.

And so, grinning, she pulled his lips to hers, and gave him a rough kiss.

Adam was surprised by it; he had expected to give her the massage, but he was going to ask quietly if she wanted anything else; he wasn’t doing this to get into her pants. Indeed, he hadn’t done it the first time in pursuit of sex. Yes, it always seemed to lead to sex, but he never minded if it didn’t, because sex was not the sine qua non of the experience. It was Stephanie. Just being with her, making her happy; that was what made him happy. That was all he wanted.

He was surprised by the kiss, but he did not pull back.

He was a bit more surprised when the titaness roughly pulled him up onto her body, but he didn’t pull back then, either.

She was nearly twice as tall as he was, now. As he kissed her he was aware that his stomach lay atop her breasts, that his foot landed just south of her crotch. He didn’t stop kissing her. He decided that as long as she’d let him, he’d make love to her.

He began to work his way down her, amazed anew at the size of her breasts; they had never been small, but now they were immense. His lips grazed her nipples, now damn near as big as his thumbs, but he kissed them hungrily, as she groaned in approval. He slid along her belly, the oil from the massage lubricating things as it always did, preparing to kiss her below, when she said, “stop.”

“What?” he said, looking up at her between the valley between her breasts.

“I want you inside of me,” she said, huskily. “We can come back to that later, if you want to. But right now, I want you to fuck me as hard as you can.”

As their interests aligned nicely, Adam slid back up, bringing himself in for docking. Her vagina was already wet, receptive to him. He fit easily now, of course, but Stephanie still moaned as he pushed himself into her. He put every ounce of energy he had into it, knowing that he wasn’t going too deep into her, but not caring. And Stephanie felt him in her, and she knew it was not as big as it had once been, but it still felt good, Adam and her connected together, and she reached behind him, holding his little butt in her hands, pushing him into her, and he felt himself pushed as far in as he could go, pushing into the woman he loved, his head buried between and beneath her breasts, and he spasmed, and released.

She felt him unload, and sighed, happily. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. For the moment, everything was okay.

* * *

“That was a good idea,” she murmured to him, some time later.

“Well, I…I haven’t done much lately but mope. I’m not saying that all is well, but…well, damn it, I don’t know how much time I get with you. I want to enjoy it. I want you to enjoy it.”

She smiled at that. “I’m grateful for every day I get with you.”

They held each other, for a good long time. Adam didn’t tell her about how he’d considered, after she left, just finding a way to end it. How he’d been looking for a razor blade when he came across the matches. He didn’t want her to know how close he’d been to giving up; it embarrassed him. Especially considering what a good night he would have missed out on.

“Steph, if this keeps going forever, if I get so small that you can’t even see me…I want you to do something for me.”

“Huh?”

He swallowed. He knew what he was asking of her. “If I’m going to be the size of a microbe I’m not going to live long after that, right? And frankly, if it gets to that point, I don’t think I want to. So please, if I get so small we can’t talk, so small you can see me…I just want you to turn me loose on your body, somewhere. You pick.”

“Adam….”

“No, I’m serious,” he said. “If I’m going to die, I want to be with you when I do. Just…if you could do that, that’s all I’ll ask. If I’m big enough to see, I’ll keep fighting. But if I get so small that I’m lost to the world….”

Stephanie looked at him, and smiled sadly. “I will,” she said, quietly, and she knew as she said it that it was okay. She imagined him, lost in her cleavage, her breasts the size of mountains, and she sighed. They would be together, even if they couldn’t communicate. She understood.

She hoped and prayed it wouldn’t come to that. Adam did, too.

Chapter Four

Ὅπερ ἔδει δεῖξαι[1]

“More fan mail for you,” said Stephanie, dropping a bundle of letters in front of her diminutive fiancé.

“Great,” Adam said, morosely, as she put several dozen huge envelopes in front of him. He opened the first letter, and sighed as he held the poster-sized letter. “Actually, this is for you,” he said, handing it up to Steph.

She read it with a pursed lip, then crumpled it and threw it across the room. “Bastard,” she muttered.

Adam thumbed through the pile of letters, dividing them into the usual piles. The smallest, of course, was pile of actually touching and heartfelt expressions of sympathy. Most were banal words of encouragement, which Adam tried to accept in the spirit in which they were sent. Some were exhortations to join a particular religion. A few were business offers of one sort or another, like the offer to custom-make him a tux for the wedding in exchange for his endorsement. He didn’t mind those, though most were rejected.

More disturbing were the letters from freaky girls who thought his 3’3” frame might be fun to take for a spin, freakier guys who thought he was lucky to be 3’3” and falling, and the suitors lining up for the bereaved widow-in-waiting.

The freaky girls and suitors-in-waiting were fond of sending pictures, because evidently they figured that would work.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Stephanie said. “Don’t tell me you gave that letter more than a passing glance.”

“Be lying if I said I hadn’t,” said Adam, shuffling his piles. “He can probably reach your breasts without stretching.”

“Yes, but what good will that do him? I wouldn’t let someone like that touch me with a ten-foot pole. Hey, have you left me for any of the naked women you’ve gotten letters from?”

“They’re twice as far away as they used to be, so it would take too long.”

Stephanie was briefly bemused, before she began to laugh. “Was that actually a joke from you?”

Adam chuckled in spite of himself. “Gallows humor, I guess.”

“Let’s hope not. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“You mean I’m ridiculous.”

“No, you’re Adam. What’s ridiculous is these people…you’ve got women looking to explore their freaky side…”

“Don’t forget that one guy,” Adam said, shuffling a paper into the heartfelt pile.

“Right! And I’ve got vultures swirling around me, expecting me to spread my legs because they saw me on the teevee.” She came and sat down on the couch, bouncing his tiny frame just a bit. “Oops. Sorry,” she giggled.

He leaned up against her, the wall of woman who sat next to him. His head leaned up against her bosom, under her arm. She looked down on him with a smile. “You know, I’ve got the night off. What say I pour us some wine, and I can pretend to be one of the girls in your fan club.”

She leaned in to kiss him, but he pulled away.

“I…not tonight,” he said.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. He ached for her. And he was almost ready. But that last line…yes, it would be easier for her to pretend to be attracted to him.

“Adam,” she said, “you were showing some actual spirit there earlier. Don’t give that up. I love you. I’ll always love you.”

“I just…I wish I was still the man you agreed to marry. It’s not fair to you…none of this is.”

She tousled his hair. “You’re the man I agreed to marry. You’re just coming in travel-size these days. That doesn’t mean you’re not you.”

“But I’m not,” Adam said. “I’m…I’m something else. I’m under thirty pounds now,” he said.

“I told you not to weigh yourself.”

“I’m the size of a three-year-old. And at this rate, I’ll officially be the world’s shortest man three days before the wedding. And that won’t end it, will it? I’ll just get smaller and smaller, until…what? Do I just eventually pop out of existence? Have you read The Shrinking Man?”

“What?” said Stephanie, trying to follow his non-sequitur, while not  accidentally admitting to him that yes, she had, and that it terrified her.

“In the end, he shrinks down to microscopic size, and less. And he keeps living. I can’t imagine that, how horrible that would be. His wife is utterly beyond him. He’s lost, and he tries to get her attention and she can’t see him, can’t hear him, he’s nothing. A speck of dust, less than a speck of dust. He’s nothing.”

“You’re not nothing,” she said, taking his face in one hand and turning it toward hers. (It was easy. She was so much stronger than he was.) “You are the man I love, and if you become so tiny that I can only see you with a microscope, then I’m going to have to buy a microscope. You hear me?”

“You’ll never get that,” said Adam, pointing to the table. Stephanie followed his gesture to a piece of paper that sat on it, a brightly colored get-well picture that had obviously been drawn by a little kid. “I wanted kids, like you do,” Adam said. “I wanted to be a dad. But I can’t be now, can I? How do I wrangle a kid when they’re taller than me, stronger than me? How do I raise a baby when I can’t diaper her, feed her, carry her, hold her when she’s sad? What good am I?”

Stephanie was quiet. In all the swirling desperation of their lives, she hadn’t thought about that. But it was true: marriage to Adam likely meant giving up on motherhood.

“I hate that I’m doing this to you, hate what you’re giving up for me.”

Stephanie got up from the couch. “I’m going out.”

“Out? Where?”

Stephanie gestured to the door. “Out. There. You know. Gonna go shopping.” She didn’t turn to look at him.

“Hmm.”

“What, where do you think I’m going?”

“I don’t know,” sighed Adam. “Away from me. Not that I blame you.”

Stephanie wheeled on him. “Adam, you have no idea what you’re talking about. But I can’t sit here and listen to you hate yourself all night. I just…I can’t. I’ll be back later. I love you.”

He said nothing. She walked out the door.

He closed his eyes, and wondered how it would be to be with one of the crazy women who’d propositioned him. He wondered, idly, if it would feel better than this. If they’d view him not as an object of pity, but an object of affection. But he shook of the thought; he loved Stephanie. He just wished she still loved him.

* * *

She wasn’t sure why she went to the mall; she supposed it was as good a destination as any. She needed space, needed to think. She needed to get away from Adam so that she could return to him in a way that didn’t destroy him.

She didn’t want to destroy him. She loved him, in the best sense of the word – she really did hold his well-being above her own. She hated that she might be giving up on children, but she was willing to for him.

But he wasn’t himself anymore, he was right about that, but not for the right reasons. He was spiraling down, and she didn’t know how to pull him out of it. She tried; the Gods knew she tried. But she was only human, and she was wearing down herself, and she didn’t have anyone she could really talk to, except….

“Steph?”

She turned, and smiled, somewhat surprised at the vagaries of fate. “Hey,” she said, “what are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know, just doing some running around. My sister’s birthday’s coming up. How are you holding up? I left you a message….”

“Yeah, I got it. It’s been….”

She stopped, and she burst out crying. “It’s been hell,” she said.

Her old friend Michael put his arms around her, as he had through so many boyfriends past. “It’s okay,” he said, quietly. “Come on, we’ll go get coffee. My sister’s present can wait.”

Chapter Three

Ἓν οἶδα ὅτι οὐδὲν οἶδα

In a cramped office in New York, Bekah Taylor’s phone rang.

The producer sighed, and grabbed it, going through the early pleasantries of the call. It was a reliable source, one who had pointed out more than a few famous people to wander through the Mayo Clinic. Still, with just twenty minutes until air time, it was a lousy time for a call, and Taylor said so.

“Becks, trust me, this is huge. Mega-huge.”

“What, Brad Pitt, Jennifer Aniston and Angelina Jolie all have the same strain of the clap?”

“Better.”

“So who’s the patient? Britney? Paris?”

“No no no, Becks, nobody famous.”

“Yeah…okay. Look, we don’t do news of the weird here. I don’t care how big the tumor in the fat lady’s gut was.”

“Look, will you trust me? This is something new. Totally new. A guy’s shrinking.”

Bekah stopped at that. “Shrinking?”

“Shrinking. He’s two feet shorter than he used to be. And it hasn’t stopped. He was just through here, but he’s on his way back home. I’ve got his address.”

Bekah drummed her pencil. “Isn’t shrinking normal? I mean, I remember my grandma shrunk.”

“Maybe by an inch or two, when you’re 80. Bone settles just a little bit, you get shorter. This guy, though – he’s literally getting smaller every day, and he’s pretty young. Everyone’s baffled, never seen anything like it. Frankly, I’m amazed it hasn’t got out yet. But when it does, it’s gonna be huge.”

“Is there any other hook to it?”

“You need a hook? Really?”

“No,” admitted Bekah. “But I want everything you know about him.”

“Usual fee?” the source asked.

“Usual fee.” “All right,” the woman said. “Send it to the PayPal account. I’ll send the documentation through presently. We never talked.”

*  *  *

The trip to Minnesota hadn’t been a total loss. Stephanie had found a couple nice outfits at the Mall of America.

Otherwise, it had just confirmed what Adam knew: there was nothing that could be done for him.

Oh, the doctors didn’t say it; they didn’t say much of anything. They’d poked and prodded, debated whether the HGH was helping or hurting, musing about cell wall thicknesses and the physics of his transformation and whether the fact that his weight was declining slightly less than his overall volume had was important or not. But he’d gone to Rochester ten days before, and he’d been 4 feet, 11 inches tall.

He was 4 feet flat now.

Stephanie walked into the room. God, she was enormous. Over eight feet tall – her breasts stared him in the face when they talked, her head was in the clouds. When she wanted to kiss him now, she kneeled down, like a mom with a kid. And it was appropriate – he was the size of a five-year-old now. He drew stares from people when he walked down the street.

He’d stopped driving.

Stephanie had mused a few days ago that they might need to get him a car seat – for his own safety.

She’d tried to back it off after she saw his face – told him that she only meant that the seat belt hadn’t fit him right. That she didn’t want anything to happen to him.

And he believed her. At least, he believed that she didn’t think she wanted anything to happen to him.

But he also was certain that when they made love – and they did, still, she insisted on it – he was certain she didn’t do so with the abandon she once had. That she was doing so out of a duty to him, out of a belief that she owed him.

He hated that. And yet he loved her so much that it burned in his gut. Even now, as he stared up at her beautiful face, staring through the gap between her (larger – there was at least some benefit to all this) breasts, he wanted to grab her, and tell her to come back to bed, and skip the graduation photo shoot she had this afternoon.

But he didn’t.  Instead, he looked up at her, and said, “Hey.”

“Hey there,” she said, kneeling down to his level. “You’ll be okay while I’m gone?”

“I’m a grown-up, Steph. I can handle it.”

“I know,” she said, grinning. “But if I can’t worry about my husband, who can I worry about?”

“We’re not married yet,” Adam said.

“We will be,” she said. “I won’t be late. What should I bring back for dinner?”

“I’ll make dinner,” Adam said, stubbornly. He hated that he’d have to use the stepstool Steph had picked up at IKEA, but he wanted to be useful.

“Great!” Steph said. “I’m looking forward to it. But I’ll call you on the way home, just in case you decide you want to be lazy. It’s okay if you want to be, you know.”

“No, it isn’t,” said Adam. “I’m the homemaker, right? I’ll make spaghetti. I think I can handle that.”

Steph kissed him on the cheek, and got up. Her gear was already packed; she waved goodbye to her fiancé, worried as she carried the bag to the car. Adam used to always insist on carrying her bag to the car, but he’d given up after the wedding last weekend; he just wasn’t big enough anymore. The cameras weighed as much as he did.

She was worried. He seemed remote, depressed. It was understandable, of course, but she could tell – when they made love, he was tentative. She was holding back a bit too, of course; he weighed only 60 pounds now and she more than doubled his weight. She would hope that if he weighed 350 pounds, he’d go easy on her.

But she wanted him to love her with reckless abandon, the way he used to. She knew why he couldn’t; part of her wanted to call Julia and tell her that something had come up, go back into the apartment and urge him to come out of his shell.

But she didn’t. She started the car and drove off.

*  *  *

It was a lot of work – a lot more work than he’d thought it would be.

Every day, he was a little bit smaller. And the spaghetti was still up in the cupboard where he’d offloaded it six weeks ago. The faucet was still behind the counter, at a perfectly accessible spot for someone a foot-and-a-half taller than he was. The pot of water was more than twice as heavy as he’d expected. Even the jar of pasta sauce was heavy.

But he’d done it. The hamburger had been browned, and mixed into the sauce; he’d doctored it until it was perfect, even though that had required him literally to climb onto the counter so he could reach the top shelf in the cupboard. He’d made garlic bread, and even had wine chilling. Damn it, he could still be useful.

He’d gotten most everything ready, when there was a knock at the door.

He sighed, and debated whether to get it. He didn’t really like dealing with people right now. But the knock repeated, twice, with a bit of urgency to it. Sighing, he walked over and pulled it open, expecting an overzealous, seven-foot-tall girl scout pitching cookies, or perhaps a nine-foot-tall delivery guy.

Instead, he was greeted by someone in between those heights; an eight-foot-tall, youngish brunette, wearing a low-cut blouse that basically caused him to say hello straight into the deep cleavage of what appeared to be E-cup breasts.

“Mr. White?” the woman inquired.

“Yes, that’s me,” Adam said, feeling a bit of unease.

“Hi. My name’s Rebekah Taylor. I’m a producer for the Jayne Jordan show, on the National News Network. Can I come in?”

Adam’s heart sank. He’d known this day would come, but he had hoped it would come after he was dead.

“I…I don’t think so. My fiancée’s on her way back – we’re having dinner…I just…I don’t think so.”

“I understand. You’re worried about being paraded around like a freak. Believe me, I want to stress that we want to do this tastefully. Tell your story to the country, let them know how you’ve borne up under this affliction.”

“How do you know I have an affliction?”

“Mr. White, were you always four feet tall? You weren’t, were you?”

Adam sighed. “I just…I want my privacy. I want Steph to have her privacy.”

“Mr. White,” Bekah said, smiling a smile that she’d used to get the mother of a kidnapped child on the air the night her husband was arrested, “I understand. Believe me. But…well, we’re not the only news organization to get this information, we’re just the first. And while I’m happy to work with you, to do this respectfully…the next guy might not be. But if you let us tell your story exclusively, it will keep the riff-raff out…or at least down to a minimum.”

“I…I’m really not interested,” Adam said.

“We’re willing to compensate you,” Bekah said.

“Compensate me? How could you possibly compensate for my being the national freak show?”

Bekah smiled that smile. “With money, of course. I have a check for half a million dollars in my purse. You agree to go on tomorrow, I give you that check now.”

Adam looked down. “Half a million?” he said, at long last.

“And that’s just the start. We’d like to track this through all the way.”

“All the way to what?” Adam asked.

“Hopefully, until you’re cured. But Mr. White…Adam…if you can’t be cured, at least you’ll leave a good financial legacy for your fiancée. Don’t you want that?”

Adam looked back into the dining room. “All right. Come in. But I’m not signing off until Steph gets home. This decision is as much hers as it is mine.”

“Of course,” said Bekah, sliding past the diminutive man into the small rambler. She knew the interview was as good as set.

*  *  *

“So do you think we’ll get in trouble for this?” said Hephaestus.

“No,” said Aphrodite, smiling, as she turned on the television. “This is just the sort of one-off event that already has approval in this reality. You know that the powers-that-be have been talking about taking a more hands-on approach. Besides, eventually the doctors will find out how this happened. Just not for a few centuries.”

“Well, I hope you’re right,” said the God of Smiths. “As may be, I still think I’m going to win the bet.”

“We’ll see,” the Goddess of Love said. “We’ll see.

*  *  *

“Two minutes to air.”

Stephanie shifted in her seat, and looked over at Adam, whose feet dangled off the chair he’d been given. “We can back out,” she said. “We still have time.”

“No,” said Adam, quietly. “This…money won’t be an issue after this. Right? I mean….”

“I don’t care about the money. You don’t have to do this.”

“No,” said Adam, “I do. But you don’t.”

Steph smiled sadly. “I’m with you every step, Adam. And if you think it’s important to tell your story, then I support that. But if you’re just doing this for the money….”

“I’m doing it for the right reasons,” said Adam, as the producer announced one minute to air. “I am.” That those reasons were all about the money he’d be able to leave her when he died – for he expected he would die, sooner than later – that he did not say.

The music came up, and the host talked of Adam’s plight, and they had a long and at times painful interview in which Adam broke down but once, talking about his upcoming wedding, and how he feared he would be less than two feet tall for it. And Stephanie said all the right things, and Jayne Jordan was her usual feisty, personable self, and Adam and Stephanie talked about love, and staying together through it all, and both of them said all the right things that night.

And if each harbored doubts, neither expressed them.

By the end of the night, Adam White’s affliction was being plastered across the entire media spectrum.

And things wouldn’t be the same after that.