Dionysus (Greek God Romance Book 1) (24 page)

Boom.

The Minotaur’s horns charged through the door and then the rest of his body. Heph leaped in the air and came down with his hammer, knocking the Minotaur to the ground. He growled, “Hephaestus.”

Heph took both hands, arched his back, and swung down, saying, “Someone that uses my full name!”

This knocked the Minotaur flat on the ground again. He turned his head and yelled, “Go!”

Rebecca needed no further instruction; she exited the back door and started running towards. . .
The Old Watering Hole!
She thought,
Dionysus and Apollo had to be there, or close by and can help. . . possibly, hopefully.

She dashed over, hearing a crash behind her and turning back to see Heph being flung by the Minotaur through her car that became officially unsavageable as it split into two. She kept on running.

She passed by Eros’ house. He sat on his front stop with a bow and arrow.

Running by, she said, “I thought the bow and arrow
wasn’t
your thing.”

He yelled back, “It’s not. . . but I’ve been known to make an exception.”

He strung his bow, smirking. He hadn’t shot anything in years, besides the women that frequent his home, asking for it. But that didn’t count in his mind, it was close range and effortless for him. He grinned.
Let’s see you do this, Cupid.
He
truly
hated that Roman god.

The Minotaur bucked Heph off and started to gain speed, using all fours to run. He could reach about seventy miles in hour but had not gotten the momentum to do so this whole chase. He was salivating, finally, he would reach those speeds and eradicate his prey.

Eros said, “One for the lady, baby.” He shot his arrow. And as he let his bow fall to his waist, he saw another arrow pierce the sky as well. He shielded his eyes and looked over to see Artemis who then winked at him.

“Did she just wink at me?” He said to himself. She was one of the coldest women he had ever met. “Split judgments,” he said. Finding another prey to hunt, he slung his bow and walked towards her.

Each arrow found a home in each of the Minotaur’s eyes, one for the left and one for the right. He immediately hit the ground and pavement flew up for yards until he finally came to a stop, howling in misery.

Rebecca took the chance to look behind and saw the Minotaur down with arrows sticking out. She made a disgusted face. Not because of the arrows sticking out, but because she knew he would growl and rage and roar and resume the chase. She was sure of it. Knowing this, she did not pause long and kept on running towards The Old Watering Hole.

He would heal, eventually, but all gods and goddesses knew that the eyes were the most vulnerable appendage, taking the better part of a century to heal. He howled and screamed and tore the arrows out of his eyes. He could no longer see, but he could still smell and he knew Rebecca’s scent well.

“I will have
my
vengeance,” he said, a challenge to those who shot their arrows at him.

Unbeknownst to him, the two culprits were no longer concerned with the Minotaur. Eros charmed Artemis and she was, to his bewilderment, rather receptive.

Rebecca was about two blocks away when she heard a rumble and the Earth shake. He was back at it, and she was running out of steam. She had never been a marathon girl, unless that involved a precarious amount of alcohol; she had been surprised that her adrenaline had lasted her this long. But all the endorphins and excitement in the world couldn’t stop the inevitable, she was about a half a block away when her vision blurred and she hunched over, attempting to force breathe in and getting very little.

She remained like this for quite some time, hearing the rumbling behind her, the death that was coming on like a locomotive and her being the heroine tied to the train tracks. No one to save her.

Finally, she looked up and was blinded by a shining light. “Ah, da—mn it,” she forced the words out of her mouth.

She felt the grin radiate from Apollo. “Greetings, Rebecca.”

She was breathing heavily, heaving each breath. She smacked her lips and sucked in enough air to respond, “You hear to mock me?”

“I was going to blind him.”

“Someone already took care of that.”

“
Two
someone’s.”

“Oh. . .?”

“There are only two gods in Olympus that could make those shots. Artemis and Eros.”

“How could he make that shot? He said—”

“Told you some tale about not flinging arrows?” He chuckled. “You should know better.”

“I should, shouldn’t I?”

“Indubitably.”

“What are you going to do now?”

He reached in his pocket, fiddling around and grinning when he grasped it. “A little of this, a little of that. Can you make it to the parking lot?”

She had stopped being bent over, and took deep breaths with her hands on her hips. “I think I can.”

“Do so.”

She scampered off not saying another word.

Apollo took out what was in his pocket. It was “a bit of sun” as he called it. It was a ball that explodes via nuclear fusion upon collision. The result was a blast that would destroy just about anything. The
just
was key because of the nature of immortals.

He toyed with it, throwing it up and down, waiting for the Minotaur.

The Minotaur ran, rage fueling his desire to rip the female apart and everyone in his path. He approached his maximum speed and his prey. He licked his lips in anticipation of the sacrifices he would receive on his new island—all the fun he would have, hunting his prey again and one by one as they were picked off generating more fear in the survivors. He was absolutely pining for it, and then, a little orange-red ball came towards him. He felt its warmth and radiance but thought nothing of it and let it hit his chest.

Boom.

The Minotaur skyrocketed into the air. Rebecca made it to the parking lot to see him fly with limbs flailing as he came crashing down beside her, smoke enveloping him and creating a crater in the center of the lot with rubble and smoke belching out, clouding her vision.

Her eye caught a figure to the side and she looked towards the entrance of The Old Watering Hole, standing there looking twenty feet tall rather than his respectable six-foot-two was Dionysus. He had a greatsword as thick as a tree truck and glimmered in the light.

He stepped forward with it slung over his shoulders, one arm over the handle and the other over the blade. He wore the battle armor that Heph had designed for him and that was
supposed
to be used
only
for the end of days. It had vines running down the sides and was purple and gold. It was all plated armor even the kilt having gold and purple plates.

He shot a smile at Rebecca. “Think I would miss the party?”

She shook her head at him. “It’s about damn time.”

“I had to get a weapon.” He tilted his heard towards it, as if she had not noticed it.

She yelled at him, “You don’t have a weapon?”

“I have this cane.” He made a face, brushing it aside. “I don’t
really
like it. This bad boy, sadly, is Ares’ weapon.”

He walked up to the Minotaur casually who then kicked him, and he flew back through the door to The Old Watering Hole.

The Minotaur turned and roared. “You are mine now.” He kicked one foot back and was about to charge when a blur slammed into him, tossing him to the side.

Hermes stopped, looked at Rebecca and bowed. “Sorry, I’m late.”

She laughed hysterically. Out of her mind slightly, she asked, “Is this all just prolonging my death?”

Dionysus ran out of the building. “Rebecca!”

“Right here.”

“Oh.”

“You failed.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Rebecca. Can you forgive me. . . for everything?”

“Hmph.” She scoffed. “I guess I can give you another shot if—”

“What is it?”

“Would you
take care
of this damn Minotaur?”

“Right.” He turned towards the Minotaur who got back on his feet.

Dionysus charged him, parrying a horn then with both hands, gripping the sword tightly and piercing through the Minotaur’s neck. The tip of the blade could be seen above the Minotaur’s skull. He wobbled then hit the ground.

“That should do it.”

Rebecca walked over, seeing the Minotaur drool on the pavement and wither in agony, letting out small moans. “Is it dying?”

“Never.”

“Never?”

“Nah, but he’ll be trapped.”

“How so?”

He looked down at the ground. “Any minute now. . .”

A portal opened where Hades’ parking spot was and he appeared from it.

“Am I late?”

“You’re always late. He’s where I get it from, Rebecca, blame him.”

“Mmmhmm.”

He asked Rebecca, “You use the coin?

“I did.”

“Good stuff, huh? I
bet
he was surprised.”

“Stopped him for a sec.”

Dionysus said, “Wait, you had the coin?”

She nodded.

“And
you
didn’t tell me?”

“You were suppose to gift it to me. You trying to blame your failure on me?”

“Uh. . .”

Hades clasped his hands. “All right, we can all agree that Dionysus is an idiot, yes?”

Rebecca said emphatically, “Yes.”

“Good. That’s settled. Two Hecatonchires should be here shortly.”

“Who?”

“The guards of Tartarus.”

“That’s real too?”

He chuckled. “What isn’t, darling?”

She snorted. “Got that right.”

Hades walked over as two more portals opened around the Minotaur.

“Whoa,” Dionysus said, “Need to get that sword out.”

Hades looked down and frowned, then said, “Only thing keeping him here. We take that out, and he’ll charge Rebecca. That’s Ares’, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll deal with him.”

“He’ll know it was me.”

Hades shrugged. “Can’t be worse than this. The Minotaur will never stop hunting Rebecca.”

Dionysus looked at Rebecca and smiled, mouthing the words,
I love you.
She squinted and frowned, then after a minute, smiled in return. Dionysus would later swear the world stopped until he received that smile.

Out of the portals , emerged these herculean creatures, and this time, Rebecca would use the term “monster.” Seeing them, she remembered briefly reading about them in the book. They were said to have numerous heads and arms—it was fifty heads and one hundred arms, to be exact. And nothing prepared her for that image, they ranged in grotesqueness, some heads drooled, others cackled, others had eyes darting each way, and nothing, nothing seemed coherent. They didn’t speak besides a couple heads arguing to which no one could interpret them, others laughing and even some were yelling as much as they could. The most unsettling thing that she saw was that some were heads of men and others were women and they snapped at each other, trying to bite. But the sound that generated from this general cacophony, that sound made Rebecca put her hands over her ears and pray for an end.

Hades attempted to yell over them, “Should’ve warned her.”

Dionysus yelled back, “My bad. . . again.”

“Take them away boys and girls.”

The Hecatonchires grabbed the Minotaur in their many arms, while a portal appeared under their feet and they went down to Tartarus not to be seen until another immortal needed imprisonment.

Dionysus ran over to Rebecca grabbing her arms. “Are you hurt?”

Concern flushed his eyes and she decided not to berate him for holding her like a child. “I’m okay.”

His eyes became watery and he held her in a tight embrace. Rebecca felt like she was inside an industrial trash compactor. “Yo—u are crus—shing me. . .” she said, barely eking it out under the pressure.

Dionysus let go immediately and said, “Oh, sorry. . . You know you are my everything, right?”

Her own eyes became watery. “Am I?”

“Yes, absolutely, I’m so sorry for what I put you through.”

“Yeah, well—”

“Let me make it up.”

“What do you have in mind?”

I THINK. . . I THINK I’LL KEEP YOU AROUND

Dionysus held a party by Hecate’s shack. Everyone was invited. That’s right. . . everyone. The reason was simple, not inviting Hera would’ve been an
open
challenge, and while everyone
at
the party held Hera in lowest of esteem, an open rebellion was not on the table. . . yet. And so, while Ares and Hera and Zeus were invited, none of them showed up. The rest of Olympus did, however, and shared in the beginning of Dionysus and Rebecca—even Persephone and Hades showed up.