Lesser Gods Ch. 01-05

"In time, Zoe, you will understand. But now I am finished with this and need to return to my other work, so if you would excuse me," he left just exactly what he wanted her to do unsaid, so she simply mumbled ok and began to walk out of the barn the way she'd come in. Once outside she left the door open and sauntered over to a nearby tree where she sat and waited for a glimpse of Grey in the sunlight. Several minutes passed without his passing, so she went back to the barn. She debated calling him, but decided instead to walk back to the tack room. He was gone. She walked past the last two stalls and out the smaller back door, but he was nowhere to be found. How did he get past her without being seen? Even if he left by the back door he would have had to pass her line of sight to reach the house or the garage. Was this guy a magician or what?

She returned to the house hoping to meet him in the hall. Failing that, she hoped he would return to talk to her after dinner in the library. There were so many things she wanted to ask him, but felt no confidence in the answers she was likely to receive.

Entering the library she headed to the desk to investigate the book she started last night. It was no longer on the desk and she remembered Grey had picked it up as she left, so she went to the shelf where it had been. It wasn't there either, or anywhere else on the shelves. Now why would he take a book he knew she had started to read. That just seemed rude to her. Well, she would just track him down now and confront him about it.

The hall opposite the one her room was on had a door just past the stair landing that was always locked, so she assumed Grey's rooms were there, since the other rooms on her hall were all similar to hers and vacant. She went to the door and knocked. When no response came she knocked louder, longer, and even yelled his name a few times, all with the same results. Her temper was really flaring now, and she was ready to try to kick the door down when it suddenly opened and the male servant slipped out quickly, pulling the door shut behind him. Zoe backed up a couple of steps and apologized, "I'm sorry for yelling and banging, but I thought that his rooms were there, and I need to talk to him."

The servant, she had come to refer to him as 'Mr. Butler' in her head, simply gave a half smile and handed her a folded card, then stood there waiting expectantly.

The card said nothing on the front. Inside was a fluid script that read:

Will you join me for dinner at 8?

"Hmmph," she said grumpily, "Dinner, huh? Sure. Maybe I'll get some answers if I can stay in the same room with him for more than a few minutes." Then noticing Mr. Butler still standing before her, she said, "Yes, I will dine with him at eight. Should I write him a note?"

The servant gave a small shake of his head then stepped around her and started down the stairs.

Five

After fuming most of the afternoon, watching court shows on the TV, and generally feeling out of sorts, she returned to her room at about 7:20 to write a letter to her best friend, something she should have done before now because the first letter she wrote two days after arriving had probably scared her friend to death, being all about the remote location and the non-speaking servants. Zoe hadn't even been able to provide a real return address because the card Mr. Butler gave her containing the return post information was for a P.O. Box in some town she had never heard of.

As she entered her room she was surprised to find an evening dress hanging on the outside of the wardrobe, and the female servant - who Zoe called Mrs. Cook, not because she knew her to cook, but because Mrs. Laundress and Mrs. Cleaner sounder funny to her - sitting at her vanity, hairbrush in hand.

"Oh, he wants me to dress for dinner, does he? Well I have half a mind to go in my jeans just to spite him," she muttered, walking over to the dress. Seeing its quality, and the emerald pendant hanging with it, she continued, "but I'd have to have just half a mind not to want to wear this! It's stunning. Oh, and these shoes..." She turned to Mrs. Cook, mood completely lifted, "He has good taste."

The lady nodded politely and stood, pointing at the dress and then at her.

"No, I can get it on myself, and I can do my own hair as well, thank you. You may go." Zoe had the dress in front of her and was spinning to see it flow around her. It was a deep amethyst silk with silver and green thread detailing on the bodice. The shoes were silver designer strappy heals. She had never been able to afford anything like this, though after this assignment she was going to have enough for a decent wardrobe for once. She quickly stripped, washed up, donned the gown, added a touch of makeup and pulled her dark brown hair up into a French knot. She looked in the mirror and was thrilled with the image. The colors of the dress and pendant brought out her green eyes and fair complexion, and the dress clung and flowed in all the right places. She hoped she was going to get to keep this outfit, but then wondered what he had in mind as payment for something like this.

Irritation flaring just a bit, she remembered that she had been angry at him all afternoon and she tried to get back that righteous indignation, but then she caught sight of her reflection again and couldn't keep from smiling. Well, if this was an apology, then apology accepted, she thought.

She met Mr. Butler in the hall outside the dining room, and he motioned her to wait. A moment later he opened the door and waved her in, following her and then scooting in front of her to pull out her chair. The dining room candles were lit at her end of the table but the other end was in deep shadow. She was seated before she noticed that Grey was already seated at the head of the table.

"You look stunning this evening Miss Beeker," he said in that deep, soft voice.

"I have to thank you for this lovely gown, as well as the shoes and pendant. I will be very careful not to spill or damage them for you," she answered, suddenly unsure again about his intentions.

"The necklace is a family heirloom, but the clothing is yours. I assure you they would not fit me," he replied with a laugh.

"I...I don't know how to thank you. I just want to remind you of our previous conversation. Our contract is for a companion, and gifts don't change my assignment," she added, just to be sure he didn't get the wrong idea.

"Of course not, my dear. Shall we begin?" he continued, as if she didn't just accuse him of being a dirty old man trying to have his way with her through bribery.

"Yes, of course," she said sheepishly.

Mr. Butler materialized out of the darkness and placed a salad and rolls before her. She couldn't see the other end of the table well enough to know if Grey was beginning to eat, but at the clink of silver against china, she felt it was okay to begin. She had planned to accost him with questions and accuse him of taking the book she had started, but suddenly felt tongue-tied. In fact, she felt like a child at her first formal dinner, awkward and out-of-place.

"So how was the remainder of your day? Did you finish the thriller you were reading?" he asked, setting her up to confront him about the book.

"No, I seem to have lost interest in that book, but the other book, the one I was reading in the middle of the night, was missing from the library today. Did you take it?" She asked, feigning an innocence of her sure knowledge that he did.

"No, I didn't take any books. You must have mislaid it. But there are hundreds of books in the library. I'm sure you'll find another to hold your interest," he spoke evenly, with no sign of the guilt she was sure he harbored.

"But I left it on the desk, and you picked it up as I was leaving the library. Why would you lie to me about it, it's just a book of mythology," she replied, sounding a little whiny, and not liking herself for it.

"I'm sure you're mistaken. I didn't see a book on the desk. In fact, I left the library right behind you," he said forcefully, and she caught a glint from his eyes at the other end of the table.

Suddenly she wasn't sure she had left the book on the desk, and she remembered Grey standing at the fireplace as she left the room. The problem was she also remembered the way it really happened, too. What was he doing, playing with her memories, with her mind! She stood suddenly, knocking over her chair and slamming her hands down on the table. "What are you doing? You're messing with my head! That's not cool! What are you?" she screamed

"You can tell?" he asked, bemused, but not at all apologetic. "I didn't think you had progressed that far yet. I guess the explanations are going to have to come sooner rather than later." He paused and appeared to be taking a sip of his wine.

"What explanations? What are you? Why am I here? How are you playing with my memories?" She paused waiting for a response, then suddenly had a revelation, "You've done it before haven't you? Been in my mind. You made me sleepy last night, and you made me tell you things I didn't plan on telling you. Who do you think you are?" Her voice rising and falling with the intensity of her emotions, and her thoughts coming fast as she put together the ways she'd been manipulated.

"Which of those would you like me to actually answer?" he replied, infuriating her further.

"All of them! No, wait, none of them, because I'm leaving," she turned and strode to the door, but the knob would not turn. She yanked and pounded and kicked at the door, tears beginning to fall, and then shrieked, "Let me out of here, you freak! You can't hold me here!"

"No I can't hold you here, but it is in your best interests to stay," he replied evenly, still sitting at the head of the table.

"What do you mean it's in my best interests? I can get another job... and I don't need your gifts," she added pulling the pendant from her neck and flinging it across the table at him.

He reached up one hand and caught the necklace easily. "No, you don't need my gifts, because you have your own gifts, gifts that will likely confuse you and possibly get you in trouble before you learn to use them responsibly. That is why it is in your best interests to remain here with me, where you can develop your talents in a safe place, with someone who understands them and can teach you about your family history as well as your place in this world."

What was he talking about? What gifts? And what family history? Did he know her father, because she didn't. She wasn't even sure her mother knew who her father was. "Explain!" she demanded

"Please sit down. Dinner will be served in a moment and I don't want it to go to waste," he answered, motioning to her seat.

She suddenly noticed the room was a little better lit. When had the candles in the center of the table been lit?

He continued, "Please, sit. You can't leave this evening anyway, so you might as well eat a nice meal and get a little information before you go."

She gave one more yank on the doorknob, then moved back to her seat, which was upright again, even though no one had righted it. She sat cautiously, and bent to pick up her napkin, never taking her eyes off the man at the other end of the table.

"That's better. Now, I will tell you a little about yourself," he went on as if there had been no interruption to the flow of conversation. "You know your mother was, how shall I say this, a bit of a scatterbrain?"

"Yeah, she was a total ditz, a diagnosed schizophrenic. I'm surprised she lived as long as she did, considering her runs with drugs and alcohol...But why am I telling you this, you seem to know everything," Zoe spat out.

"Yes, well, she wasn't always that way. Your mother was a graduate student at a prestigious college where she met a charming man with whom she fell in love."

Zoe cut him off, "you're not going to tell me you are that man, are you, because I don't find you charming at all."

"No. I am not your father. The man who charmed your mother was a reckless fool, drunk on his powers and without regard for the effects his actions had on others."

She interrupted again, "like you then."

He made a noise indicating his frustration. "If you don't want to know, then I won't continue. If you do want to hear what I have to say, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from the barbed comments." He paused a moment, then continued, "He was a loose cannon. He put the work of every higher being in jeopardy and he had to be stopped."

"He was killed?" she asked, shocked and appalled.

"No, of course not. He was detained, and the humans he had involved in his games had to be...reprogrammed. For the most part, that only required some simple editing of memories and the changing of a few public records. Unfortunately, your mother had learned far too much for a memory tweak. Her reprogramming was extensive, and had some unfortunate side-effects," he said, sounding truly sad.

"So my mom was a normal, bright young woman, until you took that from her," she asked nastily.

"Not me, exactly. There are others who are better at reprogramming memories than I am," he laughed slightly, "obviously. But yes, my kind are responsible for the changes that manifested after your birth. We theorize that your presence, which we didn't know about at that time, stabilized her system, but when you separated from her, her psyche couldn't hold it together, so she became somewhat disassociative. We watched over you to be sure you were safe and properly cared for, but we couldn't intervene until you showed signs of being one of us."

"One of who? You called yourself a higher being. What the hell does that mean?" she demanded irritably.

"I am a god." He paused. The clock ticked loudly on the mantle.

"You're God? Wow, who is schizophrenic now?" Zoe retorted.

"No, I am not God, I am a god, a lesser god. In common parlance you might refer to my position as archangel, but earlier cultures worshiped us as gods," he continued.

She really needed to get out of here. This man was crazy! She stood and went to the other door in the room, trying the knob even though she knew it would be locked as well. She checked the windows, but they could not be raised, even though there was no apparent locking mechanism. Grey never moved, even when she walked right behind him. She settled back in her chair.

She chose to humor him to keep him calm, so she asked, "If you are a god, was my father also a god?"

"Yes. He would be considered a regular angel, not as powerful as me, but far more powerful than humans." He answered.

"So, am I a god." She asked, incredulously.

"Yes. It would seem you inherited your father's status. Since the children of god/human matings don't manifest powers until they turn 25, more or less, we couldn't have contact with you directly until we knew."

"I have manifested powers?" she asked.

"You answered the letter we sent advertising this position. If you had no powers, the paper would have advertised a sale at a car dealership. Since you saw our ad instead, we knew you were beginning to manifest. Then when you told me about your dreams, I gained a better idea of what your strengths might be. It seems you are destined to be a seer, some might call you an oracle, humans would call you a reader .For now you only see things dimly through dreams, and only about your own future, but in time you will see things when you look at someone, and eventually, you will be able to control when you see things, and what you see, even without being near someone," He sounded so sure, so calm, so sane.

"You know this is crazy, right? There is no such thing as gods, and probably not angels either. I have dreams because people have dreams, they don't mean anything. Will you please unlock the door so I can pack my things and go?" she tried to stay calm, but she was starting to hyperventilate.

"I am afraid I cannot let you leave tonight. I understand your disbelief, and distrust, but I assure you, you do not want to leave tonight. Some very tragic things are going to happen this evening near the airport, and I cannot put you in danger," he said slowly and cautiously.

"What things are going to happen?" she asked in a small voice.

"Riots are going to break out over a convicted child-molester moving into a halfway house in town, only a mile from where he grabbed a little girl from her bus stop six years ago. The child remains on a ventilator, brain damaged by the plastic bag he put over her head while he raped her. There will be gunfire, and people will die," he sounded terribly sad.

"If you know this is going to happen, why don't you stop it? At least call the police and warn them so they can break it up before anyone dies," she said frantically.

"That is not how we operate. Humans have free will. Evil happens because people choose for it to. We try to keep things balanced by stopping the darkness from claiming too many souls, and by preventing the dark gods from unleashing evils greater than the human heart can create on its own. This riot is going to happen, the wheels are already in motion. The police will show up, and at least some of the bullets will be theirs."

Silence ensued as she thought about this. She wondered why she believed him, but then, it was going to be easy enough to disprove everything if the night proceeded and no stories hit the news about a riot and shootings. Why would he even make up such a terrible thing? This really was messing with her mind.

"Okay," she said hesitantly, "let's say I believe all this. Who was my father?"

"He called himself Lestor Angel. He thought that was spectacularly funny. We called him Puck, which he found significantly less amusing," he said ruefully.

"Puck. Like in Shakespeare, oh, which one was it? The Tempest, or Midsummer Night's Dream?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes. He was a direct descendent of that irksome god who gave inspiration to Shakespeare. I guess that means you are also," he answered.

"My ancestor's seem to make a habit of making themselves known to humans," she said, playing along with the story.

"They do. But that is why you are here. I had hoped by offering you information and training, we could change that trend, and make this time easier for you as well," he said with genuine concern.

"But if I don't want that training, am I free to leave?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes. After tonight you will be free to leave" he said sadly.

Feeling some relief, Zoe relaxed slightly. "What are your powers?"

"I have some small amount of all of the powers. You have felt the effects of my mind control, pitiful as it seems to have been. I also can see the future to a lesser degree than a seer. I can transport from place to place. I can be invisible. I can plant ideas in minds, but I can't force someone to act unless I step into their body, which is a horrible experience for me as well as the person I take possession of. Mostly I am a general in our army, making plans, assigning duties, and generally keeping things as calm as I can in my sector of the world." He answered calmly.

"So why do you hide in the dark if you are one of the good guys?" she asked accusingly.

"Seeing my face without preparation is ...uncomfortable. Humans fear me, and since you are not fully god, you would fear me as well. Since you are partially a god, and since you will be prepared, your response may not be as strong."

She noticed that the candles at his end of the table were now lit as well, and she could make out his features. She felt her skin rise in goose bumps, followed by a tingle, like the burst of adrenalin you get from a near miss-accident. She forced herself to look at him. While she couldn't see clearly enough to tell how old he was, she was struck immediately by his eyes. They were the bluest blue she had ever seen, seeming to glow from within, and they sent shivers up and down her spine and through her limbs. She felt as though her stomach had dropped, like the feeling you get when your car crests a rise and the shocks allow the car to "float" for a moment. She wanted to look away, but she couldn't. She was mesmerized. Slowly the tingling decreased in her limbs, but embarrassingly enough, it continued unabated in her breasts, and below. Totally inappropriate thoughts were flying through her head, visions of herself in bed with this man, kissing him, stroking him! STOP she told herself, but the tingling intensified as snippets of extreme intimacy played in her mind's eye. She felt overwhelming emotions attached to the visions: deep love; satisfaction; contentment.