5 comments/ 10629 views/ 13 favorites Lesser Gods Ch. 01-05 By: CatBrown This is a book I have previously written but not published. It starts with some mildly erotic components, but it will be a slow build. If you are looking for a quick fix, this isn't it. If you want a novella with erotic overtones, I hope you enjoy my story. The entire book will be uploaded within a day or two. One Her trepidation increased as the feeling of being watched intensified. She searched the deep shadows all around her. "I know you're there!" she said with as much defiance as she could muster. "You've been watching me all week. Show yourself!" "I prefer not to be seen," came the reply in a deep, gentle voice from the direction of the darkened fireplace. "Why?" she demanded, "and why are you holding me here." Her voice quavered only slightly. "No one is holding you here, Zoe" he answered from near the heavily curtained window. "I have seen you out walking. You have never been limited in any way." How did he move so silently? The dark house, which had been merely spooky before, was becoming downright sinister. "Sure," she came back sarcastically, "I can walk anywhere I like, except there's nowhere to go! I've walked miles in every direction and never seen another soul, another building, or even many roads. The garage is locked, so I don't have a car, and there's nothing I can reach on foot." There was no reply. "Your servants won't say a word to me, or maybe they can't," she continued. "And you! You hide from me and don't even speak to me until now. What am I doing here anyway?" Her voice cracked as her anger gave way to fear. "You are here as a companion, exactly as you were hired. The contract you signed clearly stated that the location would be remote and outside contact rare," the voice explained patiently, as if speaking to a child. Anger winning out again, she replied, "Don't patronize me! I know what I signed. I haven't been "companion" to anyone thus far, so why am I really here?" "As my companion," the voice answered as if that was obvious. "YOUR companion! I thought I would be working for an elderly person, not some freak who won't even show himself! What kind of pervert are you?" she responded, voice rising with each word. The only answer was the soft click of a door being closed. Journal Entry 10/18 The new power signature has disappeared. They must have taken her already, which means they were watching, they knew she would manifest! I must find her before she is firmly ensconced with him. She is valuable and must not go to the other side! I am prepared to use all of my resources to find her and keep her from him, even if the only way to do that is to kill her. Two It had been two days since the conversation in the library, and eight days since the limo had dropped her in the driveway of this massive estate. She felt watched whenever she was out of her rooms, but no further contact between her and her employer had occurred. After "the Talk," as she had come to refer to it in her mind, she had resolved to spend all of her time in her rooms. That had only lasted until dinner the first day, because the servants refused to bring her any food to her rooms. While they would bring her anything she requested while in the dining room or library, she did not have access to the kitchen herself, so she was becoming quite hungry. She considered sitting down to dinner in the dining room until she was served, then taking the food to her rooms herself, but that seemed childish the longer she considered it, so she relented and went to the dining room and ate as if she didn't feel watched. The food was superb, as always. She didn't know whether one of the two servants she had seen was also the chef, or if there were other staff members who remained unseen. It was weird that the servants would fulfill nearly any request she made of them, except to speak to her. They used gestures to communicate any directions, such as leading her to her rooms, requesting her dirty laundry, or seeing if she wanted anything, but they never spoke. Were there still mutes in the world today? The second day after "the Talk" she walked around shouting at the walls, challenging her watcher. "Talk to me!" and later, "What are you afraid of?" and later still, "Are you hideously deformed? Is that why you won't show yourself?" but nothing happened. She also began searching the rooms and hallways for cameras or peepholes, but found none. She noticed a few places that seemed like there was space between rooms that was not accounted for, but she could find no hidden doorways or openings of any sort. After dinner she went to the library, but instead of turning on the TV as she had been doing to alleviate her feelings of isolation, she picked up a book and sat down to read. There were no ceiling lights in any of the rooms, and other than a small desk lamp here in the library, and a similar one beside her bed, the only lighting was from small nightlights in the halls and bathrooms, and candles in the dining room. As it was autumn, the sun had already set, so the only light was at the desk where she sat in the large leather chair and became absorbed in her book. She was unaware of the passage of time, and so was thoroughly startled when the deep voice suddenly asked, "Is it good?" She jerked up to see the dim outline of a very large man leaning against a far wall deep in shadow. She convinced herself it was the lighting that made him seem so large, and answered, "Ye-yes, it's quite good." She paused, trying to settle her heart rate back down, and continued lamely, 'I didn't hear you come in." Somehow she was having trouble separating her own strange predicament from the plot of the story she had been reading. He wasn't saying anything, so she tried again with one of her burning questions, "Why do you hide in the shadows?" "I am not well received by most people," was his simple response. She decided to move on to another line of questioning, "Then why am I here? You say, as your companion, but I never see you, and this is only the second time we've spoken." "I find you a perfectly adequate companion," he answered, adding with a hint of humor, "when you aren't yelling at me." "Hmph! Adequate! I am far more than adequate when I have someone to be companionable with," she contested. "And there you go again, yelling at me." Silence followed for several moments. Finally she answered with irritation, "I'm not saying I'm sorry. This is all too strange. Who are you anyway?" "You may call me Grey." "Gray, like the color? What is your full name, and why do you live like this?' she asked, still irritated. "Grey as in Greyson. I have many names, but that is the one I have been accustomed to being called recently. I live like this because I am not well received by people," he said again. "What does that mean, 'not well received'?" she asked in frustration, "and why would that make you live alone in the middle of nowhere?" "I don't live alone. I have servants, and you of course." "You know what I mean. You have to realize this is all very strange: The house in the middle of nowhere, the silent servants, hiring a companion who you watch but don't interact with..." she trailed off, again struck by how secluded it was, and by how very large he appeared there in the shadows. "Yes, I suppose it seems strange to you, but my life is not one that can be easily judged by ordinary human standards. You are being paid more than fairly to stay here for six months and basically be at your leisure. I don't understand why you are so angry," he said with the first hint of irritation. She remained quiet for a few moments. He was right about the pay. It was a big reason why she had accepted this assignment without paying much attention to details like who exactly her employer was, or what exactly "companion" entailed. That thought put her in the mind to make a few things clear. "As long as you realize that I'm a companion, not a prostitute! There will be no physical intimacy here! If that is understood, then I apologize, you are right." "I would never consider imposing upon you in any way you were not comfortable with. I simply need someone to talk to sometimes, someone who can come to understand my situation. You are perfectly safe here, I assure you," he finished formally. "Why do you talk like you are from a different century or something?" She hesitated a moment, then continued, "Well, I guess I'm from a different century too, the 20th, but you know what I mean," she said with a touch of humor. "Hmmm. I will try not to sound so old if you will try not to sound so angry," he offered. "I am sorry. I just wasn't expecting any of this. I promise to be more companionable," she giggled at her own little joke. "Deal," he said as he stepped from the room.   Three Journal of a lesser god She is here and safe, but she is full of fear. I can't blame her, the situation is strange, to say the least. There is really no easy way for this to go. She will be hurt, no matter what, and if I've judged her correctly, she will fight it. I hope we are able to ease her transition better than we did with others. It would be tragic to see her got to the other side. Zoe awoke panting and covered in sweat. She reached for the light beside the bed and flipped it on. She hugged a pillow and willed her heart to calm. It was another of the nightmares she had started having a few weeks before she took this job. When she awoke she never remembered much, only that someone very large and very strong was chasing her. She had started to worry that they were some kind of premonition of what was going to happen to her here in this deserted place, but while Grey was undoubtedly very strange, and probably very large, he seemed harmless so far. That didn't help the sheer terror she felt each time these nightmares woke her. She had also been having other strange dreams, though not as frightening. In the other dreams, people came to her to ask for direction. Not directions like to the mini-mart, but direction, like choosing a life path, a career, a spouse. She had never been one to tell people how to live their lives. That would be laughable from someone like her who had messed up her own life seven ways to Sunday and she wasn't quite 25 yet. But the dreams persisted. She knew from experience that she would not fall back to sleep any time soon, so she rose from the bed, slipping on her robe and slippers, and walked to the hall. Without even thinking about it she found herself back in the library where she turned on the TV. After flipping the channels for a few minutes, she turned it back off and picked up the book she had been reading earlier. She tried to get back into the story that had so engrossed her earlier, but it didn't hold her interest now. She went to the shelves, but in the darkness she couldn't make out most of the titles. One book attracted her with a gilt embossed title on rich leather binding. Its title was Journal of a Lesser God. She took it back to the desk and opened it to the title page where the name was repeated, but no author was listed, nor a publisher. The next page contained a genealogy. She paged back and forth again, and looked closely at the binding to see if a page was missing, but there was no copyright page. She turned her attention to the genealogy. It looked to be a list of the Greek gods, or was it Roman, she never remembered which was which. It was beautifully detailed in five colors and a delicate script. As she proceeded down the list she noticed that the names became unfamiliar and also that only a few listed dates of death. She went back to the top and paid more attention to the dates. The first two rows contained the most familiar names, but no dates of birth or death. Starting with the third row, which included Hercules, birth dates were listed with most of the names, and a few deaths, including Hercules in the year 5077. That was crazy, because it was only 2011 now. Then again, that would have been before the Holy Roman Empire, and she had no idea what kind of calendar was used then. The other dates were also strange, and some of the people, or gods she supposed, had lived hundreds, even thousands of years. If the ones with no date of death were still alive, some of them would be over 12,000 years old! She shook her head. Obviously it was very late and she was very tired to even be thinking about this book as if it was real. It was mythology, so gods could live forever. She turned the page and found the genealogy continued for 6 pages and the dates changed to the current calendar system. The last few rows did not contain names at all, but just initials, and the dates of birth were in the 1900's. There was even one with her birthday. The initials were A.A. Well that eliminated her, Zoe Michelle Beeker. The next page began the narrative, but as she began to skim the first line, she heard the door open, and for the first time was aware of Grey entering the room. "Hello, Zoe. I did not expect you to be here at this hour," he said, not sounding the least bit surprised. "I had a nightmare and couldn't sleep," she answered, only afterwards stopping to wonder why she mentioned the nightmare. "What kind of nightmare? The type where you go out in public in your undergarments, or the scary monster type," he asked with interest. "Neither," she said, meaning to leave it at that, but then she felt a wave of something akin to feeling tipsy, and continued, "I was being chased by someone powerful. I've had the same dream about 10 times now." "Really? Do you ever see the face of the person chasing you?" he asked, coming a little closer to the light. He was very large, and apparently well built. She could see he wore a dressing gown that showed him broad across the shoulders and narrow in the hips. He must be at least 6-6! He had never come so close, and while she still could not see his face, she could catch a glint from his eyes and she felt the hair on her arms stand up and her heart begin to race. Abruptly he stepped back against the door. She felt a slowing of her heart and a warmth that seemed to wrap around her like a blanket, even causing a touch of claustrophobia as if she were completely wrapped in a physical blanket. The feeling faded and she tried to remember what he had asked her. "I'm sorry, what did you ask me?" "I wondered if you ever saw who was chasing you. In the dream that is. Is it someone you know, or a stranger?" he asked, remaining as far from her as the room would allow. "I never see his face, but I can feel his size and power, and I somehow know he is evil," she answered. "Do you have other repeating dreams?" He asked, pausing, then adding, "I fancy myself a bit of an amateur psychologist. I have an interest in dreams especially." "I do have other repeating dreams, but they are so silly, I wouldn't want to talk about them," she replied. "Yes, well, if you ever change your mind, I would love to hear about your dreams. For now it is late, and you should probably return to bed," he said, becoming formal again. "I never can sleep after one of those nightmares, at least not for hours. I was just looking at this book. It's got an interesting genealogy at the beginning and I was just about to start reading the first chapter." The words barely left her mouth before she yawned and felt an overwhelming need to lie down. Grey sidled away from the door as he said, "I think you are more tired than you give yourself credit for. Perhaps you should return to your room while you are still able." In complete agreement she rose from the desk and headed to the door where she turned to see him lift the book she had been reading from the desk. "Good night," she said, yawning again. "Goodnight Zoe." He replied, quickly snapping off the light just as her eyes rose to look at his face.   Journal entry 10/19 Nothing! I'm surrounded by incompetents! They haven't located the girl or the Fist, and my patience is spent. I am sure she is with him, now. If only she could see how much stronger she would be with me. Four She awoke to light streaming in her window and a vague feeling of having slept too long or too deeply. There was a snippet of a dream that she could just remember, where deep, gorgeous blue eyes gazed at her as a silken voice commanded her to relax. Very odd. But then, everything was very odd since she took this job. She stretched and got up to go to her bathroom and shower. When she picked up her watch, she was amazed to see it was after 10. How in the world had she slept so late? She always got up with the sun, had ever since she was a child. Things just kept getting odder. Her day otherwise continued much as every other day had since arriving. She was served a light breakfast by the silent male servant, and when she returned to her room she found the female servant vacuuming, so she grabbed a jacket and headed outside. She decided to investigate the barn. The large door swung open easily and silently, and she was greeted with the smell of fresh hay. There was no sound of animals, but she decided to look around anyway. She walked past six stalls, three per side, when she heard a noise ahead. Quietly she moved forward to what appeared to be the tack room. There were no windows, and the only light came from a gooseneck lamp focused down on the work of a man sitting at a bench facing away from her. This must be Grey, for he was tall and broad shouldered as the figure the previous night. Was that only a few hours ago? It seemed like so much longer. She remained still, studying what she could of the man so focused on the work before him. He had dark hair, just a little too long, and with a slight wave to it. His shoulders were indeed broad and well muscled under the shirt pulled taught across them. His upper arms were nearly as big as her thighs, and while his hands were proportionate to his size, they seemed delicate and nimble working the leather piece he appeared to be fixing. Suddenly she sneezed and the man at the workbench jumped and turned slightly toward her before catching himself and turning back away. She felt a thrill go through her and her skin raise up in goose bumps when he began to turn toward her. She quickly said, "excuse me." "Have you been spying on me long?" he asked without rancor. "No! I mean, I just walked up a moment before I sneezed. I didn't mean to spy. I just thought you were working on a harness or something and I didn't want to disturb you," she quickly made an excuse. "Do you ride?" he asked, out of the blue. "Do I what? Oh. You mean horses. No, I always wanted to take lessons as a child, but there was never money for it, or for much else as far as that goes," she replied. "Too bad. I get great satisfaction from riding. I will have to hire an instructor for you. The horses are to arrive tomorrow from where they were stabled while I was away. Perhaps a member of the staff from the boarding stable could come and stay for a few days to teach you enough that you could also enjoy them." "Oh, thank you, but that isn't necessary. I like looking at horses, but I'm a bit scared of them up close," she admitted. "That definitely will not do. A riding instructor it is then. If I can't get someone from the stables, I will get one of my employees from elsewhere that is competent with the animals to teach you the basics. Horses are noble beasts that are both powerful and useful. It will not do for you to be afraid of them," he stated, not leaving room for disagreement. "Thank you," she said again, being unable to think of any other reply. Some time passed, during which Grey continued to work on the harness and Zoe became progressively more uncomfortable. Zoe knew herself well enough to know that when she got uncomfortable, socially, she tended to say things that weren't well thought out. Still, she found herself stammering, "I'm glad to finally see you, to see that you are a real person, if exceptionally large. Oh! I don't mean that the way it sounded. I just mean that the way you hung in the shadows had my imagination working over-time, and I thought all kinds of crazy things. I can't imagine why you feel people don't want to see you. Because from what I can see, all the women I know would be happy to look at you." She blushed at her own running on of the mouth, but it was said and couldn't be unsaid. She thought she saw a hint of pink creep up Grey's neck as well. 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. Lesser Gods Ch. 01-05 "That's interesting," he said, obviously amused. "Please tell me one of your powers is not mind reading," she asked desperately, heat rising from her blush. "No, I can't read minds," he said, to her great relief, until he continued, "but I can see what someone is seeing, and with permission, I can search memories, as well as being an empath, so I always know what people around me are feeling." "Great! Just great," she mumbled. She continued, "just so you know, I didn't try to think those thoughts. In fact, I'm horrified. Wait a minute, you planted those didn't you? It's you making me think those awful thoughts! You said you could plant ideas, and you're planting them in me now!" she shouted with indignation, while simultaneously feeling that she didn't want the feelings associated with those visions to stop. "No my dear, I'm not planting anything in your mind," he said calmly, but still with amusement. "That is all you. In fact, considering your talents, and the fact that I intensify the talents of lesser gods, you are likely seeing your, or rather our, future." "In your dreams! I have no intention of staying here after tonight, and I certainly don't plan to ...well...any of that," she screamed. "As you wish," he said mildly. "You are not being held here. You may do as you please, now that you know the truth. I am going to the library to watch the news, if you would like to join me." She really didn't want to be in the same room with him, but she wanted very much to watch the news and prove he was wrong about the riots. If he was wrong about tonight's events, then he was wrong about everything, and she could just go back to her old life, depressing as it was. She followed him through the door that had been locked a few minutes earlier, and across the hall to the library. He didn't turn on the desk lamp, only turned on the TV and sat on the couch across from it. She went and sat in the desk chair so there was a heavy piece of furniture between them. Commercials were playing, so she took a few moments to look at him in profile. He appeared to be in his early to mid thirties, with a long, straight nose and well proportioned face. The eye she could see looked a lighter, Caribbean blue from the side, and still seemed to glow. She had the impression he was being very deliberate in facing the TV and not turning toward her. She looked at the rest of him and again felt her body thrill to him, as if he was touching her. He was well built, muscular, tall. She brought her gaze up to his face again just in time to catch a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth, which was quickly erased. The news began with a 'late breaking story' from Russel, where a riot had broken out after a citizen march protesting the arrival of a child molester ended in front of the halfway house he had moved into that morning. As the cameras on the scene showed a crowd of shouting people, gunshots rang out and the cameraman and reporter both dropped to the turf as glass shattered somewhere near them. The camera came up from the grass enough to pan the crowd and show police in riot gear trying to disperse the crowd while more shots were fired and two people were on the ground nearby, apparent shot and bleeding. This couldn't be happening! This mustn't be real! It looked real. The reporters were familiar. How could he know this was going to happen? Had he planned it, was it happening because he had set it in motion? Her agitation was growing as she ripped her eyes from the television to look at the man on the couch. He was looking straight at her. She was paralyzed. Fear, and dread, and excitement, and longing all shot through her at once. She tried to pull away, to shake her head, even to blink, but she couldn't move. She could barely hear the reporters continue to babble through the roaring of blood in her ears. Grey stood and took two steps toward her. That was all she needed to break the spell and jump to her feet. "Don't touch me! Don't come near me! What kind of monster are you?" she shrieked. "I am not a monster. I knew this would happen, but I did not cause it, I could not prevent it," he said calmly. "You could have stopped it, but you didn't," she yelled, backing all the way up against the window behind her. "Yes, I could have stopped it, by breaking every rule in place to prevent higher beings from having undue effect on humans. You don't understand the implications of taking free will away from someone," he replied with regret. "Oh, I understand the implications just fine! People would not have been shot tonight. Someone there could be dying, could already be dead, because you let it happen!" "Someone is dead, and someone is dying, but I couldn't change that without the repercussions being too great, without changing history in unacceptable ways." He started to take another step in her direction. "You are evil! How can preventing people from dying pointlessly have negative repercussions?" She screamed, backing away from him and tripping on the draperies puddle on the floor. "Evil is in the human heart, not mine. You see the deaths as a separate issue from the bigger picture, as unfair right here and right now. I must act based on the whole of human history, past, present, and future. Revoking free will, even in just one or two people, violates the plan for all of humanity," he explained patiently. "You are an egomaniac! What right do you have to decide what is and what isn't good for all of humanity?" She tried again to back away, to get untangled from the drapes without moving into the room, and again tripped, falling to one knee, but never taking her eyes off the man looming over the desk. "I am not deciding what is good for mankind. That is exactly my point. People make their own decisions, for good or evil. It is my job to try to mitigate the consequences of those actions so the bigger plan remains on track." He took another step towards her. She was about to scream at him to stay back when she heard gunshots again from the TV. Glass shattered and the camera turned to show the front of an old motel, the glass from a room's front window hanging in shards. A scream rang out and a woman's face came to the window shouting, "my baby! My little girl is shot! Help me, please, God, help me!" The TV went mute but the video continued to play as Zoe turned horrified eyes back to Grey. "Is she...is she one of the dead?" she asked, voice shaking, tears beginning to flow. "Yes, I'm afraid she is," he answered, sounding heartbroken. Zoe burst into tears and crumpled to the floor. Grey was immediately beside her, stroking her back and gently shushing her. She pulled away from his touch, curling into a tight ball and crying harder, hysterically. His hand rested on her shoulder and she felt a warmth flooding her body, followed by a heaviness that made her so groggy she could hardly lift her head. She wanted to tell him to stop, to leave her alone, but her mouth wouldn't form the words. He lifted her as easily as a parent lifts a newborn, and carried her up the stairs and into her room. He laid her on her bed facing away from him. He pulled a blanket over her, then leaned over and kissed her gently on the temple. She heard the door click shut as he left, and then felt oblivion overtake her. ****************** Please take a moment to vote and leave me some feedback! TYIA Cat