The Gods of Pittsburgh

by Faye Levine

copyright (c) 1990

Eternity sucks.

Oh, it's not the boredom that gets to me---there are ways of dealing with that. I'm not the type of eternal who becomes so consumed with boredom that I take to "playing" with poor, stupid mortals. No, what hurts is the drudgery of it all, watching the world decay with pollution, war, and assorted vices. But then, who am I to complain about vice? I'm a satyr.

My birthname is Thaylos, but I've gone by a variety of names over the years. I was born in Greece in the Hellenistic era, some two millenia ago. I am one of the youngest of my kind; as far as I know the last satyr born came sometime during the years of the Roman Empire, and the oldest can be traced back over three thousand years, maybe earlier.

I've got gripes with everyone---with humankind, with the Olympians, with my own kind. The Olympians gave up trying to be almighty and the humans wasted everything Zeus gave them. The gods, for the most part, are sulking up on their mountain, unworshipped and ignored outside the classroom, having contests to see who's the most depressed. A few still walk the earth. As long as love exists, Eros and Aphrodite will have something to do. Artemis is currently masquerading as the president of some women's magazine, I think, and Zeus joined a bowling league because he liked the thunder-sound made by the ball hitting the pins. The old geezer doesn't chase women anymore; Hera keeps him on a tight leash. Hephaestus mucks around grumbling about steel workers getting the short end of things. Apollo's become a yuppie. But the worst of the lot is my "lord", Dionysus. All he does is drink, keeping himself in a perpetual stupor, dreaming of the days when he used to dance with his maenad priestesses. Imagine that: the god of wine an alcoholic. The irony disgusts me.

But at least the great gods have Olympus. The rest of us are stuck down here, in this foul air and spoiled earth. The older satyrs tell me Dionysus used to invite them up for parties, but someone put the moves on Hera and that was the end of that.

I suppose you'd think we lesser deities spend our time hiding in the mountains and forests, away from humans. Some do---I know I appreciate fresh air and clean water---but a good many of us live among you. The various nymphs have become environmentalists and activists, working for organizations like Greenpeace, the EPA, and the SPCA. As for my kind, the satyrs generally enjoy human company. We have ways of hiding our nonhuman features in your presence. There are many of us; chances are you've seen or met or even lived with one of my kind, or even me.

We are the dirty old men, the lovers of porn, the party animals, the playboys, the clubhoppers. We may own the liquor store or Musicland down the street. We are the beautiful men, the happy-go-lucky, the greatest of lovers. We are the unfaithful and multi-partnered. We are the men who will live with but never marry you; we are the ones you love but will never make a commitment.

We never truly mean it when we say "I love you."

That hurts me, which is unusual. Satyrs are not supposed to love or give a damn; it is implanted in us to live and love for the moment, to be perpetually happy. But I look out at the world and see the love beneath hate and poison of the modern society, and I wonder, Why can't I share it?

Not to say I haven't tried. I have. I've gone to therapists and I've read books. I've acted in passionate plays in the dim hope it would spark something within me. I've tried to be committed to one woman. I've tried to love, but nothing works. There's a void inside me. I cannot love, only lust; I feel no need or desire for a significant other in my life.

I used to be normal and happy. I never used to complain. When the last of the Olympians was dumped for Christ, I said, "Who cares? We're all eternal. The party doesn't have to stop." The party didn't stop, but it did become erratic. As the Christian Church grew more and more powerful, the world became less and less inviting. Most of the satyrs slept through the Dark Ages. I made the mistake of not sleeping in long enough. Curious and impatient, I woke up to the world of the Inquisition. There were few satyrs around. For the first time I was frightened---and alone. Too disturbed to go back to sleep, I wandered through Europe hoping to find some company. I did.

She was young and pretty and much brighter than the other peasant girls. She had a wonderful imagination. When she could, she would sneak away to the fields to play with me. I became her secret friend. I thought I loved her. I cared for her so deeply I revealed my True Form to her, goat legs and all. Of course she ran away from me---women ALWAYS run from satyrs---but when I caught her she was laughing and enchanted.

She made the mistake of telling someone she had a half-goat for a friend, and they burned her as a witch. I was devastated.

Three days later, I was in another village, lusting after another young woman.

And then it hit me what I had done. I realized I hadn't TRULY loved that poor girl, or any other woman or nymph I'd ever been with. I loathed myself. Over the years, I attended fewer and fewer satyr gatherings; eventually I stopped going altogether. Europe degenerated. It began to weigh heavily on me. I thought that foul continent would suffocate me, so I ran away to Asia, where I had some peace of mind. A good friend called me back to Greece in 1785. I found out that far away, across Poseidon's waters, was an endless new land and a budding nation. A few satyrs had made the journey a hundred years earlier, and had just sent word back how beautiful it was. I went to England and took the first ship to America I could find.

It WAS beautiful. I ran with the buffalo through the Great Plains, skipped through the Rockies, and wandered through the woods. In 1790, a group of wood nymphs migrated over and I lived with them. I almost forgot about other satyrs and women and humankind in general. For just a while, I felt good again.

All that changed with the settlers moving further and further west. I soothed the nymphs as they cut down the forests. I choked on their trains' fumes, watched them shoot buffalo for fun, saw them destroy the natives of this country. It was Europe all over again. I went south to Mexico and beyond and found the same thing had happened there. Eventually, I ended up hiding in a corner of Canada, sulking.

Satyrs, however, are social beings, and after a time the loneliness was driving me crazy. I bounced from country to country, never happy with what I found. Finally, I gave up. I ended up back in North America, and have more or less stayed here for the past century. In some respects, it's been amusing, watching the United States grow and advance so quickly. I've enjoyed the music, the television, the movies, motorcycles, fast cars and jet-skis. But the air and land have become foul, and underneath this mask of a happy, productive society there's poverty, stress, and social hangups. The ways of the Greeks and Romans are gone forever.

Like Europe, America began to get me down. My black moods began to affect me. By 1980 I had completely lost my sexual appetite. As of the Fall of 1990, I had been celibate for ten years.

I believe that beats the previous satyr record by nine years, 364 days, and twelve hours, give or take a few minutes.

In September, 1990, I went to Pittsburgh. It's so suited for brooding. I'd been there in the 1700's when it was a beautiful speck of the frontier: three rivers, green hills, and only a couple of ugly forts. After I moved west, I heard the Industrial Revolution had turned it into a filthy, cold city, so I avoided it until that year, when I overheard someone say it had improved. Curious and bored, I went back and found them scraping a century of grime off of the Carnegie Museum and certain other buildings around the city. But really, it wasn't so bad; the downtown area is a pleasant mix of old and new, fairly clean and not that unfriendly. The rivers' junction has become a park with a huge fountain. The weather, however, hasn't changed a bit. On some days, the sky takes on a familiar dingy cast, occasionally dumping rain. It's those wet days that are so perfect for being depressed.

Late one morning, I went downdown. There's an adult book, video and "toy" store there, and as I passed it I felt a tingling inside me. I crossed the street and lingered near the door; the sensation grew stronger. I didn't really want to go in that place. At that point in my life, the thought of smut made me queasy, but I gave in and stepped inside. Immediately, a smell hit my nose; pleasant, musky and familiar to me, undetectable to humans. I can't fully describe it, but it was definately satyr-smell. I looked around, sniffing the air, and finally saw him.

Standing casually near the wall of magazines, smiling as he looked over the titles, was what appeared to be a middle-aged man, dashing and trim, with a tidy grey beard, glasses, and a double-breasted suit. He turned and smiled as I walked over to him.

"Well, well, well..." he murmured with a cultured, British accent, his smile broadening.

"Sir William," I greeted happily, and embraced him. "It's been too long."

His name is not in fact "Sir William", but Euriphides. He'd picked up the title by accident, and, fancying the Isles, has lived under the name and guise of a successful producer and entrepreneur for all these years. Euriphides is a different kind of satyr; a selini, to be exact, one of the oldest of our kind. The selini are usually seen on old wine vases; they are the original servants of Dionysus. Euriphides is half-man, like me, but the rest of him---his legs and ears and tail---is horse, not goat. He's one of my dearest friends among the eternals. When I was very small, I used to tug his tail and call him "father", although there's a very low probability that he actually is.

"It HAS been a while," he told me, and leaned a bit closer. "What are you calling yourself nowadays, Thaylos?" he asked quietly.

I shrugged. "I have a Minnesota driver's license which says I'm Theodore Petersen."

He arched an eyebrow. "What a dreadfully tacky name. I shall have to call you `Teddy', then." He chuckled, then asked, "What brings you here?"

"The gods only know," I replied. "And you?"

"I just decided to take a little trip to the East Coast cities." He waved a stack of magazines in front of my face. I caught the titles `Big Man' and `Whipworld'. "You know, do a little shopping, eh? Know what I mean?" He nudged me, smiling more broadly.

I groaned. Euriphides is a dirty old satyr if there ever was one. For all outward appearances and his love of culture, he's had sexual relations with just about everyone---and everything---imaginable.

"I've been having a lovely time," he went on. "I went out to the fraternities over at the University of Pittsburgh and Carnegie Mellon University---unbelievable! I filched some freshman student I.D.s, altered my looks, and snuck in for Rush. You've got to try it, Teddy. There's music and women and dancing... those frat brothers may as well be satyrs, the way they drink! The beer is endless... have you been out there?"

"To Oakland? Yes, I've been staying in Schenley Park."

Euriphides squinted. "Are you feeling all right?" he asked me suddenly.

"Yes," I replied, "Why?"

"Well," he murmured, frowning, "You're not aroused. Are you ill?"

While eternals don't die, we are capable of feeling pain and getting sick, so it would seem only logical that a young satyr without an erection must be unwell. "No, I'm fine, really," I said.

Euriphides leaned close. "I can make you feel better," he cooed, giving me the seductive eye.

"No, not today---FATHER," I quipped, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

He looked hurt. "You wound me!" he moaned.

"I'm sorry, Eu---Sir William. I... I just don't feel up to it---no pun intended."

"What d'you mean, you don't feel like it?" he replied in surprise, and put a hand to my forehead. "Are you sure you're not ill?"

"Positive."

He smiled. "Poor kid," he said, ruffling my hair, then chuckled and lowered his voice. "Or should I say ram?" he corrected, squinting to see through to my True Form. "Your horns have come in so nicely. You're looking like a bighorn sheep." He paused. "Speaking of which, did I ever tell you about the time I---"

"Many times," I smiled.

"I forget sometimes you're not a child anymore," Euriphides admitted. He played with a tress of my long, curly hair, staring at me fondly. "While we're on that line of conversation, it may interest you to know that your favorite playmate is in town, too."

"Minorus?" I replied. "I haven't seen him in ages! What's he up to?"

Euriphides shrugged. "I don't know." Again he drew close to me to mumble in my ear. "I haven't seen him, but I caught his scent earlier today. He may still be in this area."

"Great," I said, "I should go look for him. Why don't we get together for dinner or something?"

"How about `or something'?"

"William, please..."

"All right," Euriphides groaned, giving up, "Meet me at Jimmy Tsang's tomorrow at seven, and if you find Minorus, then by all means bring him."

"You bet," I told him, and left the store.

I couldn't find Minorus. In the late afternoon I gave up searching and went to a grocery store to get something to eat. I was looking over the fruit, considering picking up some apples for Euriphides, when I noticed a young man staring at me. As I looked over at him he looked away and absently surveyed a passion fruit. I ignored him, but couldn't help noticing how he kept watching me---and and the passion fruit. He was an androgynous type, lightly built and very pretty. The human form I happened to be using at the time was not far from my True Form---long, curly, rust-colored hair, smooth face, grey eyes, average but fit build. Quite attractive by human standards. I decided he was hitting on me. I was hardly in the mood for this sort of game, and since Euriphides wasn't there to take over, I moved away and went over to the deli. The young man followed me discretely, still carrying a passion fruit. I got a sandwich and went back to the produce section for the apples.

I saw the guy following me as I walked back to produce, but when I got there, there he was in front of me.

"What do you want me to do, Thaylos, shout?" he snapped, throwing me the passion fruit. I was so surprised I barely caught it. "Get a clue," he added with a sneer. He looked at me hard, and when I stared back I saw him for what he was.

"Cupid," I muttered, and sighed. I don't like Olympians.

"That's `Eros' to you, pal," he growled. "Watch your attitude."

Again I sighed. "Well," I asked, "What do you want from me?"

"You," he told me with a fair amount of distaste, "are a disgrace to your kind. Mother and I can feel your black thoughts all the way up on Olympus."

"Why should you and Aphrodite care what a lowly little faun like me feels?" I replied, not bothering to hide my annoyance.

"Because it's giving us a headache! We're all connected, you know. Satyrs are not supposed to be unhappy and celibate. You're supposed to be out screwing everything in sight!"

The little bastard was starting to annoy me now. The way he felt about my kind was quite obvious. "Some of us have higher standards than that," I replied, trying hard to control my anger. This isn't an easy thing. Satyrs' emotions are intense. Usually, however, we only radiate lust and happiness and content. Although we're not violent by nature, an angry satyr is not something you'd want to meet in a dark alley.

Eros cringed. "You see?" he groaned, "Stop it, for Zeus' sake! Over the years you've only gotten more and more morbid. All of the other satyrs send me pleasant feelings of lust, but your depression bores into my skull like a stake. It gets stronger every day."

"So why don't you just tune out my bad vibes?" I asked him. "It's none of your business what I feel anyway."

"I CAN'T block you out. If something happens to a nymph or an animal, Artemis knows, because the woods and everything in them are her kingdom. If something happens to a naiad, Poseidon knows. Satyrs overlap. You belong to Dionysus, but Artemis is aware of you because you live in the forests and fields. *I* am aware of you because your kind radiates feelings associated with the realm of Love. Do you understand?"

I nodded. "Yes, but what do want from me? What can I do?"

He was very frank. "Get laid."

"I don't feel like it."

"I know. You're not even aroused. For you, that's an illness. The cure is to have a few nice flings."

"But I'm not interested."

"You don't have to lie with a human. In fact, it might be better if you were with a nymph or another satyr. Euriphides is in town; I'm sure he'd be willing to help you out..." Eros flashed me a smile.

"I've already spoken with Euriphides," I said flatly. "Look, I'm just not interested. I don't care who it is."

Eros shot me a dark look. "You'd better care," he said. "You're not living up to your kind's standards and you're annoying the hell out of me. Trust me---Aphrodite with PMS is bad enough. Aphrodite with PMS AND a satyr-induced headache is terrifying. Now you change your attitude, Thaylos, or I'll change it for you." He came very close to me, and the next thing I knew he was digging a Beretta 9mm into my gut.

I laughed. "What are you going to do, KILL me?"

"You're as stupid as the goat's ass you wear," he replied.

I glanced down at the pistol and saw that it wasn't just a pistol. "Oh," I said, but couldn't stop smiling. "You can't affect me," I told him. "Satyrs lust, not love, and your shots are for love."

Eros narrowed his eyes and took on a wicked smile. "Try me," he said. "We'll see how much you know about my powers."

I shrugged. "What happened to your trusty bow and arrow?" I asked, glancing at the Beretta.

He pocketed the pistol. "Times have changed," he replied, and left me standing alone among the apples.

I went back to Schenley Park, got deep into the woods, took off my clothes, and began the Change. It's a somewhat uncomfortable process, but I've learned to live with it. I suppose the worst part---worse than the itchiness of having fleece sprout from your legs---is having your knees bend back the wrong way and your feet change to hooves as you go from man to goat, or vice versa. Either way, I always spend a couple of minutes stumbling around, getting used to walking a different way. Having the horns, the tail and the goatee sprout isn't exactly fun, either. You see, when I walk in public as a man I can't simply project an illusion; if anyone bumped into me they'd feel the truth, and besides, pants wouldn't fit. When Euriphides looked at me closely and saw my True Form, he wasn't seeing through an illusion, but concentrating on me in order to get a mental impression or feeling of what I actually look like.

After the Change, I stretched out my legs and shook my tail a few times to get loosened up, then took off running, easily going up and down the steep, wooded hills human visitors find difficult. After a few minutes, I picked up a small stone, right in the cleft of my right hoof, and had to stop to pull it out. It was wedged in tightly, trickling a little bit of blood, and it hurt like Hades. When I finally pulled it out, I saw the damage wasn't too bad, but decided to stay off my feet until it stopped hurting.

As I sat there, there was a rustling in the bushes. I saw a human coming through the brush. My immediate instinct was to bolt, but as I tried to get up a force held me back. An instant later the human was standing there in front of me, and all I could think was, `Why isn't she running away?'

She was tall and well-built, wearing a perfectly pressed, spotless business suit, which I found interesting because we were in the middle of the woods on damp ground. Her dark hair was pulled back into a bun, and a pair of roundish glasses was perched on her nose.

"Know me, Thaylos," she said, and I did.

"Artemis..." I choked.

She curled her lip. "That's `divine lady' or `mistress' to you," she replied. "And just so you know, I've been going by my Roman name for years."

"Oh, I---eh, yes, Diana." She stared at me, and I swear her eyes glowed. "Divine mistress," I amended, but the contempt I felt was leaking through. She saw it, but for some reason dismissed it.

"Never mind," she said. "You can just call me `Artemis' or `Diana'. I didn't come here to have you revere me." She stopped again, then added, "Not that I'd want one of your kind worshipping me anyway."

I narrowed my eyes at the Olympian. "Then why are you here?" I asked, still trying to hide my distaste, even though I knew she could feel it. The Virgin Huntress is a positive sort of goddess, but she has been known to become violent, especially toward the male sex. As much as I didn't care for her or any other Olympian, I didn't want to provoke her.

She sighed heavily. "We have a problem. A very big one. Do you know the story of Prometheus?"

I shrugged. "Sure. He helped Zeus overthrow the Titans, then gave the humans fire. Zeus tied him up to a rock for that."

"And then?"

"He was eventually freed by Hercules."

"But what else?" Artemis prompted.

"What," I replied, "You mean the prophesy?" Again I shrugged. "Prometheus claimed that one day Zeus would have a son capable of overthrowing him. Eventually he and Poseidon found out the woman who would have the child was the sea goddess Thetis, but she married a mortal, King Peleus."

"No," Artemis told me, "She didn't `marry him', but was married off by Zeus and Poseidon. She had no choice."

"I don't understand," I replied. "What's the point?"

"Prometheus' prophesy has come true."

"But that's impossible!"

"Why?"Artemis paused and stared at me, her face grim. "No one can escape Fate---not even the gods."

"But her son was Achilles, and he was killed in the Trojan war."

"Exactly. Thetis didn't know why she was forced to marry Peleus. She was very bitter. Her only joy in life was Achilles. It was the gods who caused the Trojan war; the Olympians meddled in it, and because Apollo guided the incompetent Paris' arrow, Achilles died. That seemed to be the end of it. But I've found out that it wasn't. Years later, Prometheus went to her. He hated Zeus and wanted revenge, and Thetis was the one who could give it to him. He explained his prophesy to her, and she was furious at the way she'd been manipulated. That combined with the loss of Achilles pushed her over the edge. She seduced Zeus and bore a son, which she hid from all of us."

I rolled my eyes. "SHE seduced ZEUS? Isn't it usually the other way around?"

"She pulled his own trick on him," Artemis explained with distaste. "She turned herself into a white cow with sex appeal and Zeus went for her when Hera wasn't looking." She paused to scowl. "Daddy was in a wicked mood that day."

"I still don't understand why---"

The goddess cut me off. "Her son's name is Aetros, but that's all I know about him at the moment. I think he's going to make a move soon."

"But that still doesn't explain why you're telling me!" I snapped.

"Because no one else believes me," she replied.

"I don't think I do."

Artemis sighed. "Well the Olympians don't either, and I'm afraid to go to the other Titans, because they're probably lined up behind Prometheus. The lesser gods wouldn't believe me, either, mostly because Zeus and Hera didn't. The nymphs, who also thought I was crazy, don't consider our politics their business or concern, and the satyrs are too drunk and silly and powerless to be any help."

"So why are you talking to me?" I demanded.

"Because you're different," she explained. "I heard Eros complaining about you and got curious. I've been watching you. You're of a different state of mind than the other satyrs. I thought that just maybe you would listen and believe me. I think maybe you can help me. I don't know how, but I do know I can't handle Aetros alone."

why should I help you? You Olympians disgust me."

"If Aetros is capable of overthrowing Zeus, he can easily deal with your kind and anyone else in this world, mortal or eternal."

"Why should he care about the satyrs? No one else does, except Dionysus."

"He could overthrow Dionysus. Aren't you bound to protect your master?"

"Frankly," I told Artemis, "I'm fed up with my master."

"Listen," she hissed, "I can't say for sure, but I've got this gut feeling that Aetros carries his mother's and the Titans' grudges to an extreme. I don't know what his powers are, but I know he's stronger than any of us, and I have a terrible feeling he's going to announce his presence soon, and not pleasantly." She grabbed my shoulders and shook me. I was impressed that she touched me at all. "You're the last one I can turn to. Please help me. I'll reward you."

I snorted. "What can you give me?"

"Anything. You can live on Olympus, be a master of your kind, have a harem of nymphs---"

"I'd sooner castrate myself than live on Olympus, and I don't want any power."

She was getting desperate. "Then what do you want?"

I stared her down and decided to play her game. "I want to love."

Artemis frowned. "What?"

"Satyrs are incapable of loving. I want to love."

"I can arrange that."

I pulled away from her. "Leave me alone," I muttered. "Let me be miserable in peace, okay?"

The goddess stepped back. "Think about it," she said. "I'll be back."

She seemed about ready to go, but I stopped her. "Artemis," I asked, "Are there any other reasons you bothered to come to me?"

She gave me a thin smile. "Well, one more. I knew that in your current state of mind you wouldn't put the moves on me." She sneered. "After all, isn't it every satyr's pipe dream to diddle the Chaste Goddess?"

She spread her arms wide and took on an eerie glow. A moment later she was gone.

I went back downtown the next day to look for Minorus. Artemis' words filled my head. At the time, I didn't know why. She was a bitch, I kept telling myself, just a cold, condescending bitch with a nastier case of hormonal imbalance than your average satyr. Still, it bothered me. Unless it really was that important, why else would she mess with a satyr, and an unimportant one at that? She certainly didn't like me or any of my kind. Seeing Eros on the same day as the Huntress only made it worse. I felt like I was being watched.

I tried to push these thoughts away as I got off the bus on Fifth Avenue and searched for Minorus. I tried going to the head shops, liquor stores, and adult bookstalls, but there was no trace of him. The most I found in those places was the lingering scent of Euriphides.

My patience (or what little bit of it satyrs are allotted) was finally rewarded as I passed Sak's Fifth Avenue, a posh, expensive place. Somehow I managed to catch Minorus' scent through the fumes of a passing bus. I went into the store.

He wasn't immediately visible, and I had no idea what form he was currently wearing, so I relied on my nose. Eventually his scent mixed with the scents of many other animals, and soon enough I found myself among the fur coats. There were saleswomen, rich women, and wishful girls going through the coats and jackets, but no men. I was confused. I didn't think Minorus would bother to make himself look like a woman unless he was trying to sneak into a harem or convent. But sure enough, his scent grew very strong as my eyes fell upon a middle-aged woman standing in front of a mirror, a saleslady fawning over her.

"Isn't it just lovely?" gushed the young sales rep.

The older woman petted the coat she was wearing. "It's so soft!" As she paused to glance at the price tag, I cleared my thoat. She turned and looked at me. "And what do you think?" she asked.

"It's... it's very nice, ma'am," I replied a bit awkwardly, because I realized as she spoke that she was indeed a she, and not Minorus. It had to be the saleslady then, I decided.

"It's, eh, a bit pricy, though," the older woman remarked, fiddling with the tag.

"Oh," the saleslady replied, "but it's worth it! That's the finest Persian lamb I've ever seen."

And then I took a good look at the coat.

I gasped so loudly they both turned to look at me. "Are you alright, dear?" the older woman asked, but all I could do was shake my head and gasp some more.

"Are you having an asthma attack?" I heard the saleslady say.

I remember screaming and running from the store.

I don't remember how I got back to Oakland.

"I told you so," I heard Artemis say.

I came to my senses. Noise and fumes filled my head. I was under a train bridge in the brush, and the locomotive and its cars were rumbling past. My clothes were in a heap beside me, and I was in my True Form. I pulled at the soft wool on my legs and burst into tears. For the first time in my life, I had been truly terrified. For the first time, I was in anguish.

The train passed, and when I looked up, sniffling, there was Artemis, standing across the tracks. She walked over to me.

"You shouldn't risk letting people see you in your True Form," she said flatly, but I could see in her eyes she was amused.

"Who cares if someone did?" I managed to groan. "It would just end up in the `World Weekly News'."

"I take it you encountered poor Minorus, or what was left of him."

I buried my head in what is approximately my knees and nodded. "How?" I wailed.

"I told you Aetros was powerful," Artemis replied, unsympathetic.

"But satyrs are eternals!" I wailed.

"I know. That's what makes him more powerful than any other god. Now we know. Aetros has the power to kill eternals---you, me, even Zeus. My guess is that Minorus was only an experiment."

"H-how did you know?"

"As much as I despise you oversexed beasts, you are part of my domain. I told you I thought Aetros was going to do something, so when I felt something wrong in the back of my mind, I looked into the matter and found out Minorus had been murdered."

"What did Dionysus say?" I asked. "He has to know."

"He's too drunk to notice. He felt the pain---I remember him screaming one night, just before I noticed something wrong. He made it go away by drinking himself into a deeper stupor." Artemis sighed. "He may know, but just may not want to deal with it or believe it. No one else would. I talked to the other Olympians again, and they still wouldn't listen."

I got a hold of myself and wiped my eyes. "But how? How could Aetros kill an eternal?"

The goddess grew very serious. "Somehow, he's found the eternals' Threads of Fate---possibly the gods', too---and somehow he has the power to cut them, although I'm sure it isn't easy, even if it is his natural power."

"Why aren't the Fates doing something about this?"

"I don't know. But I suspect it has something to do with the fact that I can't find them."

"I don't understand," I told her, "How could the gods not believe you, with an eternal dead and the Fates missing?"

"Because they're too self-centered!" Artemis snapped, disgusted. "They insist the Fates have to be SOMEWHERE, and they refuse to believe that Minorus is dead. They think I'm either making it up or playing a joke on them. They wouldn't believe me unless they saw his cut Thread, which I don't have. The death of an eternal is simply unimaginable to them."

"It was to me, too," I moaned. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

Artemis sighed. "Even if I did have his cut Thread, they probably wouldn't care. Hera said, `What's all the fuss? Even if it were true, there's a big difference between us and simple eternals. One simply cannot kill an Olympian. In any case, it's just a filthy, randy little satyr you're talking about---who cares?"'

"Yeah?" I fumed, "Well I'M a `filthy little satyr', and so was Minorus. He was my friend!" I looked up at her. "So why should you care?" I asked. "You hate us as much as Hera does---more, even, because you hate sex."

She softened, but only a bit. "I told you, you ARE in my domain, Thaylos. That makes you my responsibility. There's that, and there's the fact that I believe Aetros IS capable of killing the Olympians. It's not just us, either---I think, if given the chance, he'll destroy all of us, gods and mortals. I don't know exactly what he's planning, how many Threads he has access to, or who will be the next to die. Now I'm asking you again: Will you help me?"

I heaved a sigh. "I don't know. I'll have to think about it."

"All right," Artemis agreed, "I'll give you a day to think it over. We don't have any more time to spare. I'll meet you here this time tomorrow. Have an answer for me." She stepped back a few feet, shimmered, and was gone.

"Booze," I groaned as I slumped into my seat at Euriphides' table, "I need booze."

He grinned. "That's my boy!" he said. "I suppose this means you're feeling better."

"No," I muttered, but I don't think he heard me.

"Waiter!" he called, "We'll have a bottle of some of that nice rice-wine stuff."

"It's called SAKE, and it's JAPANESE. We're in a Chinese restaraunt."

"Oh," Euriphides said. "Sorry," he told the waiter, "I meant plum wine."

"Just bring me a beer," I grumbled.

"Certainly," said the waiter. "Would you care to order now, too?"

"Just pick something," I told Euriphides.

"All right," he said, scanning the menu, "We'll have wonton soup and fantail shrimp for starters, then kung-pao chicken, sweet and sour pork, beef lo-mein, mu-shu pork, lobster kew, Szechuan lamb---" I looked up at him. "Er, nix on the lamb. Make it Peking duck instead. Oh yes, and some of those almond cookies. And a coke." Smiling, he handed the menu over to the waiter.

"---and a coke," the waiter mumbled as he scribbled on his pad. He took the menu and looked cautiously at Euriphides. "And that's for---er, that's all for the two of you?"

"Well," Euriphides replied, "We may have a third coming along, in which case we'll just order some more."

"Yes, sir," said the waiter, and walked away.

"Sorry about the lamb," Euriphides said. "When you looked at me, I assumed you were a bit sensitive."

"William," I groaned, "A lamb is a young sheep. A kid is a young goat. I just happened to look at you. Fauns are part goat. It's been thousands of years and you're still confusing them."

"Well I called you `kid' back in the bookstore, didn't I?" he snorted. "Goats, sheep... what's the difference?" He leaned forward in his seat, a wicked grin on his face. "They're all the same to me... ." He sighed and sat back. "Anyway---did you find Minorus? Is he coming?"

"Oh, yes," I told him, "Oh, Dionysus, did I find him."

"And?"

"Ask me after I've had a few."

Now it takes quite a lot to get a satyr even tipsy, so "a few" turned out to be several bottles of plum wine later. Euriphides asked me about Minorus again as I twirled my chopsticks through my third helping of lo-mein. I told him the whole story; how I found poor Minorus had been turned into a coat and how Artemis had come to me and told me about Aetros and Thetis and Prometheus' prophesy. When I finished, Euriphides simply stared at me for several long moments. Eventually he began to chuckle.

"Oh, jolly good!" he exclaimed, "Jolly good story, Teddy."

"I'm not kidding," I told him.

"Oh, come now," he replied, "Stop teasing me."

"But---" I began, but the waiter cut me off as he showed up with the check and our fortune cookies. I plucked one out of the bowl, cracked it open, and pulled out the slip of paper.

`It is only wise to make decisions in haste', it said, `when a renegade god could cut your Thread at any time.'

"Ah!" I exclaimed, and flung the paper away, "Damn her!"

"Hm?" Euriphides mumbled as he read his own fortune and tossed it into the ashtray. He picked up mine. " `Many good things shall come to pass'," he read, "---in bed," he tagged on with a laugh and a wink. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," I muttered, and got up. "I'm going back to the park. I need to be alone."

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"No. Anyway, I bought you some apples. You can come by later tonight to pick them up."

"Oh, Teddy," Euriphides beamed, "You DO care!"

"Yeah," I replied, "I do. And don't call me `Teddy'."

When I got back to Schenley Park, I saw Artemis standing near a birdbath.

"I've found out a few things," she told me. "Thetis stole Aetros' Thread from the Fates. She's hidden it in a magical safe-deposit box in a vault somewhere in Idaho. I've also gotten a fix on Aetros, although I don't know exactly where he is. I still don't know where the Fates are. Come here and take a look at this."

I went and stood next to her in front of the birdbath. As she passed he hand over the still water, a picture began to form. It took shape, and I saw what appeared to be a young man sitting at a desk covered with ropes and strings and threads of all kinds and sizes.

"That's Aetros," Artemis told me, "and those are the Threads of the eternals and lesser gods. I don't see the Olympians' or Titans' Threads." As I watched, Aetros picked a Thread at random and looked it over, studying it carefully. Beside me, Artemis closed her eyes, concentrating. "That's Euriphides' Thread. You know him, don't you?"

My eyes widened in horror. "No!" I cried, and lunged for the pool.

"Stop it!" Artemis hissed, catching me just before my fingertips reached the water. "If you upset the water you'll ruin the image. There's nothing you can do. Now be still!"

To my vast relief, Aetros dropped Euriphides' Thread and chose another. He looked over another dozen or so before he chose one which caused Artemis to speak again.

"That is the Thread of the nymph Calissa," she said quietly, "Your mother."

I remember very little about my mother; most satyrs don't remember their mothers at all. I remember being very small, and her holding me, singing me songs. I remember running through the forest with her. I remember her binding up all the cuts and bruises I got from romping around, and pulling stones from my hooves. Those memories are vague. The only clear memory of her I have is the day she sent me away, when I was ten years old. She and two other nymphs took me to a clearing, and on the other side were three satyrs, a faun and two selini, one of them Euriphides. Calissa began to cry and hug me tight.

"Let him go," one of the other nymphs said, "It's time." But Calissa wouldn't. The other nymph sighed. "He's just going to grow up to be one of them," she said, gesturing to the satyrs across the way. "You can't keep him."

"But he's different!" Calissa wailed. "He's my baby!"

"He's not different and he's not your baby anymore. Just like any other animal, a satyr is only cute until he grows up."

"Oh, let her be," the second nymph put in, "it's her first." She patted Calissa on the shoulder. "You'll get used to it, dear," she soothed.

Finally, Calissa gave up and shooed me forward. I was starting to get nervous, but I took a last look at her and went over to the satyrs. I remember Euriphides looked very tall to me. He smiled and offered me his hand, but I took his tail instead. As they led me away, I looked back and saw the nymphs were gone.

I've seen Calissa several times since. The first time I saw her again I tried to talk to her, but the words wouldn't come out. Instead, I was overcome with satyrlust, she with satyrfear, and I ended up chasing my own mother.

I blinked and looked back into the pool. Aetros put down Calissa's Thread and chose another, a delicate, golden one. He smiled terribly as he wrapped it around his hands and began to pull. His body began to radiate an aura of power and strength.

After a moment, the Thread snapped.

Artemis stiffened and screamed. She thrashed the water with her hand, then collapsed. I knelt beside her, frightened and unsure of myself, but after a few seconds she came to and sat up.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

"I---I think so," she replied in a shaky voice. "That was one of my nymphs. I felt it---it was like part of me had died." I helped her to her feet. "Listen, Thaylos---I know where Aetros' own Thread is, and I know of a sword that might be able to cut it. During the Trojan War, Thetis commissioned Hephaestus to make Achilles arms. There was a shield and armor, and I think there was a sword, too. The sword, if it exists, would probably be in Thetis' cave with the rest of the armor. She's away right now---there's been an oil spill somewhere---so if we work fast she'll never know what happened. There's a young sea-nymph---younger than you---named Nysis who lives in the Atlantic, off of New York. Every night she comes to the beach to watch the sun go down. If you can get her to bring you Achilles' sword while I get Aetros' Thread, we may be able to stop this." Artemis looked me in the eye. "Please help me," she said.

I bit my lip. "Okay," I replied at length. My voice was low and husky. "I'll try."

We turned sharply as we heard someone approach us from behind, and were relieved to see it was only Euriphides.

"Well," he crooned, smiling from ear to ear, "I'll be damned to Hades. Little Thaylos and Lady Artemis!" His eyes lit up. "Did you actually catch her?"

"No," I replied. "The Huntress just needs a favor."

"I'll give her a favor..."

Artemis scowled. "Wipe those thoughts from your mind, or I'll make you a gelding!"

"Really, Euriphides," I scolded, "this is serious. How would you like to go nymph-hunting in New York with me?"

I don't know how it was possible, but his smile broadened. "Why, Thaylos!" he said, throwing an arm around my shoulder, "I'd be delighted! I do believe you're getting better!"

"Now," I said to Euriphidies the following day as we crouched behind a grouping of rocks, "Do you remember what to do?"

"I wait until the nymph is preoccupied with the sunset, then get her!" he exclaimed, shaking with anticipation.

"Right. And---?"

"And then we have a Menage a Trois!"

"No!" I told him. "For the last time, we're not going to have sex with her."

Euriphides was taken aback. He had a minuscule attention span and probably didn't even remember that we'd gone over this half a dozen times already. "What do you mean, we're not going to have sex with her! Satyrs always have sex with the nymphs they catch. That's the way it is, my boy!"

I growled in exasperation. "Look---how much self-control do you have?"

"What?" he replied, gazing eagerly out at the ocean.

"Never mind. Just remember to do what I told you."

"Hm?" he replied, still staring at the sea, "Oh---oh yes, of course, Thaylos."

We sat on the New York beach for another hour or so, and then the sun began its turn downward to the horizon. The beach was empty, so Euriphides and I had no qualms about shifting to our true forms. He immediately went about brushing out his beard and horse's tail, claiming he wanted to look good for Nysis.

Eventually, we spotted her coming to shore a short distance away. She walked through the cold waves to the beach, shook the sea-water from her hair, and sat down on the sand, turning west to watch the sun.

"Now, Thaylos, now?" Euriphides whispered.

"Wait," I told him.

"Now, Thaylos, now?" he repeated not half a minute later. Again I told him no. After a couple of minutes he seemed about ready to explode.

"Nysis looks like she's not paying attention," I murmured. "Why don't you try sneaking around behind her and---"

No such luck. With an obscene whinny, Euriphides jumped from behind our hiding place and lunged at the nymph, who immediately screamed and ran for the ocean. He only had two hooves, so he couldn't maneuver the same way a centaur could, but after three thousand years of chasing nymphs and women (and men and livestock and strange vegetables), he was quite agile. He was unable to cut in front of her to block her escape to the water, but he did manage to come close enough to catch her ankle in his hand. Nysis went sprawling at the water's edge, clawing at the wet, oozing sand as Euriphides hauled her in. She was screaming so loudly I was afraid the police would come, but I waited until he dragged her farther upshore before I joined the action. I jumped on Euriphides and threw him off her.

As Artemis said, Nysis was younger than I was, and my guess was that she'd never been caught before. That, combined with shock and the sight of two satyrs fighting over her kept her glued to her spot. Otherwise, she would have run back to the sea in an instant.

My problem now, however, was Euriphides. Having no self-discipline, as far as he was concerned I was truly challenging him for his prize, and he was fighting for real.

"'Riph," I grunted after he landed his hooves in my ribs, "Stop it! Don't you remem---"

It was no use. He launched himself on me again. I realized the nymph wasn't going to sit there forever, so I head-butted my old friend as hard as I could. The curves of my horns connected solidly with his skull and he slumped to the ground unconscious.

Panting, I tried to talk to Nysis, but she only screamed again. She got up and ran for the water, but I managed to pull her down. She pummelled me with her fists, thrashed her legs and bit me, but I held her tight. Finally, she stopped struggling.

"Please don't hurt me!" she cried, and burst into tears.

"I don't want to hurt you," I told her. "Just calm down and listen to me."

She sniffled and looked at my crotch. "Oh," she said, and started to laugh, "Oh, Poseidon! You couldn't even if you wanted to!"

I made her look into my eyes and put on my best pitiful expression. "I know," I said, cracking my voice a little. "That's just it! You're the only one who can help me."

"Why should I want to help you?" she replied. "The other nymphs told me satyrs are nothing but trouble. If I don't help you, there will be one less problem for us to worry about."

I squeezed, out a few tears and thought depressing thoughts, hoping she'd pick them up. "Please!" I begged. "A satyr without an erection is like---I can't think of anything worse! My brothers will reject me! I'll be all alone! Please help me..." I bowed my head and cried.

Behind me, Euriphides came to and with a savage growl pulled me off Nysis. `Damn!' I thought, `She'll get away for sure now!' I head-butted my companion into oblivion again, then spun around. To my surprise, Nysis was still there, sitting on the sand.

"Why didn't you run away?" I asked.

She smiled. "Well, you can't hurt me, for one thing. But mostly I felt sorry for you."

"Oh?"

"The other nymphs always told me, never trust a satyr because they're never sincere. But you are. I can feel it. You really are unhappy."

I was so impressed by this remark I started to feel bad I'd fed her the lie about being sick. But then, I told myself, according to Euriphides and Eros I WAS sick. "Oh," I repeated, unable to say more.

"So what do want from me?" Nysis asked.

"Do you know Thetis the Silver-Footed?" I asked.

"Oh yes, but she's away right now."

"I heard. I was told that during the Trojan War she had special arms made for her son Achilles. I know that after the war they went to Odysseus, but that somewhere along the line she got them back."

"That's right."

"Anyway," I went on, "I was told that if I performed a ritual with Achilles' sword---if it exists---it would heal me."

"It does exist," Nysis informed me, "I've seen it."

"Good! Please, can you get it for me?"

"Oh, I don't know... I mean, it belongs to Thetis, and we all know how much she loved Achilles."

"Please," I begged, "I'll only need to borrow it. I'll have it back before she returns."

Nysis stared at me hard, thinking it over. She glanced at Euriphides' prone form. "All right," she said at last, "I guess I owe you." She smiled. "And I kind of like you." I smiled back at her. "Thetis' cave is far away. If I leave now I can be back at dawn."

"Wonderful," I told her.

She got up and headed into the waves. "By the way," she said, "My name's Nysis."

"I'm Thaylos," I replied.

"Well... See you at dawn, Thaylos," she said. She dove into the water and was gone.

Behind me, Euriphides stirred. "Gad, what a headache," he groaned.

I helped him up. "Where's the nymph?" he asked.

"She, uh, she got away. Sorry."

"Oh, well," he replied with a lopsided smile, "Jolly good fight. Made the trip worth it. Remind me to mind you more carefully in the future."

"Sure," I told him. "Why don't we go to dinner, then back to the hotel?" He nodded in agreement. We changed to our human forms, got dressed, and left the beach.

I made sure to get him roaring drunk (in the safety of our hotel suite) that night, then got up before dawn while he was still sleeping it off. He hadn't trashed the room too badly; at least everything was still intact, if messy.

I got to the beach when it was still dark, and sat on the sand, watching the sky, waiting for Nysis.

Dawn came, and with rosy fingers.

Gods, I hate that line. Homer beat it to death in `The Odyssey'.

In any case, Nysis climbed out of the water as the sun came up, just as promised, and she did indeed have the sword. She was a slight creature, and had to drag the hunk of metal behind her. I met her halfway and helped her with it. As I pulled off the seaweed tangled around the blade, a warm glow hit our faces.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she breathed. It truly was. The blade was the color of gold, but it was like no other metal I'd ever seen. It was etched with scenes of war, and the hilt was strong and elaborate.

"Thank you," I said. "I can have it back in a couple of days at the most."

"You're welcome," Nysis replied. "Just don't lose it. Hephaestus forged it, and he's a friend of Thetis. If anything happens to that blade, you'll have to answer to him."

"I'll keep it safe," I promised.

"Um, Thaylos," she said after an awkward pause, "Will I see you again after this?"

"I don't know," I replied. "I usually don't like the cities."

"The Atlantic has many coasts," she smiled.

"Yes, but... but after I'm... cured, I may not be like this anymore. I may even go after you when I return the sword."

"I'll take that chance," she told me. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me on the forehead. "Good luck, Thaylos."

"Thanks."

I watched as she turned away and went back to the sea. She swam out a bit, waved to me, then disappeared beneath the waves. I sighed, watching the rolling water for a few moments longer, then went back to the hotel.

"What's that?" Euriphides asked me as we headed to the airport, motioning to the wrapped-up sword on my lap.

"Oh, nothing," I replied, "Just a souvenir."

"I've sent word to Aetros," Artemis told me later. "He's going to meet us here later tonight."

"In the park?" I asked.

"No, but in Pittsburgh."

"Why?"

The Huntress shrugged. "I have no idea. But he wants to meet me at one of the local universities, in the Fine Arts building."

"What did you tell him?"

"I sent word to him that I knew who he was and what he was up to. I made it a little threatening---enough to get him to reply and agree to meet me. I don't think he takes me seriously, though---he seems to think he's something special---which he is, but I think it's gone to his head."

"Did you get his Thread?"

Artemis smiled. "Right here," she said, tapping a bag slung around her shoulder. "I've never seen a god's Thread before. It's very interesting---and very large."

"How does it fit in the bag, then?"

"The bag belonged to Perseus," the goddess explained. "It can hold anything. He used it to carry Medusa's head back to King Polydectes. I assume you got the sword?"

I unwrapped the blade. "Right here."

"Can you wield it?"

"I haven't tried. But I know a little bit about swordplay."

"You may need that knowledge," Artemis told me. I didn't like the way she said it. She took the sword from me and tested its balance. "Very nice," she remarked. "Athena would appreciate this." We were deep in the woods of Schenley park now, and there was a large, dead tree nearby. She went over to it, raised the sword, and sliced through the base of the trunk as if it were air. The tree toppled over, neatly sliced through. I was amazed. Next she shooed me off the rock I was sitting on, and cut through it with almost no effort.

`But can it still slice a tomato paper-thin?' I mused. "Do you think it'll cut Aetros' Thread?"

"Quite possibly," she replied.

"Why don't we just cut it now?" I asked. "Why do you have to go meet him?"

"Why do WE have to go meet him," she corrected. "I still need you."

"But why don't we just kill him now?"

"It's a serious enough thing to kill an eternal," Artemis explained. "To kill a god, especially one as powerful as Aetros, is a very serious matter, not to mention a shame. We'll give him a chance. Maybe if HE'S threatened with death, he'll see the error of his ways and give up. I'd rather have him for an ally than kill him."

"Judging from what I've seen and from what you've told me," I put in, "He isn't going to change."

"We'll see," the goddess told me, "We'll see."

"Are we going to a fraternity party?" Euriphides asked me.

"No," I told him for the third time. "I really don't think you should follow me tonight."

"Why ever not?"

"I told you, it could be dangerous. Don't you remember what I just told you about Artemis and Aetros and the Threads? How many times do I have to repeat this to you?"

"Oh, stop with that silly story already," Euriphides scoffed, "and tell me truly what you've been doing with Artemis."

"It's not a story!" I insisted. "Minorus is dead! As in gone to Hades! And so is a nymph. This Aetros is capable of dethroning Zeus. He can kill gods and eternals."

"Oh, come now. Minorus is most certainly not dead. Whatever sickness you have, it's affecting your mind. We'll have to do something about it when you're through with Artemis."

I gave up trying to explain. Euriphides simply wasn't going to accept my story, and I was going to have to deal with it. But I was afraid for him; I didn't want him along. I didn't want him to die.

At four in the morning we emerged from Schenley Park and hit Tech Street, behind the academic buildings of Carnegie Mellon University.

"Where are all the parties?" Euriphides asked. "I don't hear any music."

"They're all over by now," I said, and immediately regretted it. I should have sent him off to the fraternity houses.

"Oh, well, I'll stick with you, then," Euriphides sighed.

"Really, you don't have to," I told him. "I wish you wouldn't."

"Well, I'm going to. Too bad."

I sighed and led him to the Fine Arts building. It was a large, cream-colored brick structure dating back to the early part of the twentieth century. A good part of the roof was made of strong panels of opaque glass, used to let light into the personal studios during the day. At night the students working would turn the lights on, giving the top of the building a wonderful glow. Tonight, however, only a few lights were on upstairs.

I led Euriphides down to the basement and changed to my True Form. He followed my example. Next, I took pieces of felt and a bottle of glue from my coat pocket.

"What's that for?" Euriphides asked.

"Sh," I replied quietly, "Lower your voice. The floor upstairs is marble, so we don't want anyone to hear us. Glue the felt to your hooves."

"Ah..." he said, rubbing his hands together in delight, "We're going to play a little sneaky-game! Are there nymphs here?"

"No, just a few art students." `And a god with a chip on his shoulder...'

"They'll do," Euriphides replied, flashing one of his wicked smiles.

I put my hands on his shoulders. "Look, William---Euriphides. You're going to have to be quiet and do exactly what I say if you want to stay with me. This is serious."

"Oh, all right. I'll play your little game."

"'Riph---I mean it. This could be very dangerous." I paused. I really hated being sappy, but I couldn't help it. "Whatever happens, I want you to know that you're my best friend." I wanted to say "I love you", but I couldn't. I THOUGHT I meant it, but then, I thought I'd loved that peasant girl, too. I wanted to tell Euriphides the truth, not an empty phrase.

As I mentioned before, we tend to radiate our emotions, and now was no exception. I think Euriphides felt my thoughts quite keenly that moment; perhaps he almost understood. His smile faded and he looked at me in the oddest way.

"Sure, Thaylos," he replied quietly, "You'll always be my little kid."

"Hey," I smiled. "You got it right for once."

We glued the felt to our hooves and crept up a small, corner staircase to the main floor. We stayed in the doorway, next to the concert hall and across from the theater, watching the front door. The sword and the bag holding Aetros' Thread were at my side.

"What now?" Euriphides murmured so quietly I barely heard him.

"We wait for Artemis," I replied, equally low. "And stop swishing your tail." I motioned to him to cease conversation.

The main floor of the Fine Arts building was unusually elaborate compared to the studios upstairs: light grey marble floors decorated with abstract, black marble floor plans of buildings like the Parthenon; a huge ceiling, at least thirty feet high, painted with murals; replicas of famous Greek sculptures situated in niches; a bizarre, ominous facade on the entrance to the Dean's office; a few columns here and there for good measure. It was entirely neo-classical, a sharp contrast to the art produced upstairs. I was beginning to understand why Aetros had chosen this place. It was reminiscent of a temple, and probably as big as his ego.

At length the front door swung open, and in stepped Artemis. She glanced at me, just long enough to make eye contact, then called out. "Where are you?"

I heard footsteps, then saw a man step out of the shadows. He was tall, with slicked-back, dark hair, wearing a sharp business suit. "Artemis," he said in a deep voice, "You have the honor of being the first Olympian to behold me."

A look crossed the goddess' face, a look which distinctly said, `I think I'm going to puke.' But it quickly vanished, and was replaced by a smile. "Yes, I suppose so," she replied.

"How did you find out about me?" he asked. "I've gone unnoticed for a long time."

"I have my ways," she answered. "Forgive me, but I can't reveal ALL of my powers."

"Understood."

Beside me, Euriphides put his lips to my ear. "That man's a god," he murmured. I nodded. "I don't recognize him."

"That's Aetros," I dared to reply, without taking my eyes off the god. "I told you it wasn't a story."

"I hate to put this childishly, Aetros," Artemis went on, "But I know who you are and I saw what you did."

He chuckled. "Ah, yes. Impressed, are you?"

"Yes. Impressed---and disgusted."

"Come now... what's a satyr or two?"

"Killing eternals is a serious business," Artemis snapped.

Aetros looked her over. "You're afraid of me, aren't you?"

"Considering Prometheus' prophesy, and the fact that you've killed two eternals without remorse, yes."

"Let's get to the point," Aetros said. "Why exactly did you want to talk to me? Somehow I don't think it was to slap my hand."

"You're right. I wanted to talk to you about your plans. It's always a little messy when a new god appears on the scene. I just want to make things easier."

Again Aetros chuckled. "My plans? You should know, if you know the prophesy."

"The prophesy states that Thetis would have a son CAPABLE of overthrowing Zeus. It doesn't say he will."

"The implications are there. Tell me, Huntress, why shouldn't I fulfill my destiny? Zeus is feeble---he's let the humans degenerate, forfeited to Christianity. He's a disgrace."

"What's a few thousand years to an immortal?" Artemis countered. "I think one day we'll return to glory---and you could be at our side."

"Well, *I* am impatient," Aetros hissed. "The time for the new order is now, before this world gets any more polluted. The humans were never meant to be here in the first place. Prometheus has a soft spot for them, but I don't."

"You want to destroy them?"

"It will be over for them quickly. After that, I'm going to cleanse the planet and start over."

"Let me guess," Artemis said in a low voice, "In your own image."

Aetros smiled. "Very good."

"And what about Zeus?"

"What about him? I told you, my destiny awaits."

"I don't know what Thetis has told you all these years," said Artemis, "but destroying Zeus and all the world isn't the answer to your problems."

"It's my Fate," Aetros told her. "You can't deny Fate."

"Speaking of which," Artemis returned, "Where are the Fates?"

"Safe."

Artemis studied the young god for quite some time. "Tell me," she said at length, "Must you destroy Zeus?"

"I must. I have no love for him. He gave my mother nothing but grief. And as I've said, it's my destiny."

"Are you truly capable of killing him?"

Aetros flashed a broad grin. He made a motion with his hand, and the air began to shimmer. An instant later, the front hall of the building was filled with a beautiful, intricate rope of a million colors and patterns, glowing with life, floating freely in the air. I tried to find its ends but couldn't. "There," Aetros said, "You can feel it, can't you? You know who this belongs to."

"Where did you get that?" Artemis demanded, but he only smiled. "Listen to me," she went on. "If you kill Zeus, all the Olympians will come for you, and many of the lesser gods, too. Why risk that? Why destroy yourself?"

"If I can kill Zeus," he replied, "Why should I fear his children?"

"If you don't stop this now," the Huntress threatened, "We'll be forced to destroy you." She held out her arms and a siver longbow, nocked with a brilliant arrow, appeared in her hands. "Please, Aetros," she said, her words genuine, "We'd much rather have you for an ally. Don't make me hurt you."

Aetoros laughed hard, his mirth echoing off the stone walls and marble floors. He waved his hand again, and Zeus' Thread disappeared, sent back to where it had come from. "Are you threatening me?" he exclaimed. "You can't hurt me, goddess. Nor can you sway me."

"We'll see," Artemis hissed, and let the arrow fly. Aetros held up his hand in a "stop" gesture. The shaft halted in midflight and crumbled away. The Huntress lowered her bow, and it faded out of sight. "You give me no choice," she said, "I'm going to have to contact the Olympians."

"They didn't believe you twice," Aetros scoffed, "Do you think they'll believe you a third time?" He waved his arm again, and another Thread appeared in the hall, woven in silver, gold and green. Artemis gasped. It was her Thread, the Thread of the Goddess of Three Forms, one for the Earth, one for the Moon, and one for the World Below.

"They might," the goddess choked.

"Yes," Aetros agreed, taking hold of the Thread, "They might. You've gone a bit too far, Artemis. I'm afraid I'll have to deal with you... harshly." A terrible, closed smile stretched over his face. His body seemed to grow larger and the aura of strength around him began to throb as he began to twist and pull at Artemis' Thread. The goddess gasped, clutched her chest, and fell to her knees.

`Thaylos!' I heard her anguished cry in my head, but I was terrified, rooted to the spot.

`Thaylos, please!' I watched as she writhed on the floor, as Aetros pulled her Thread harder and harder, stretching it to its limits.

`Thaylos, where are you?!'

I thought hard. I thought about how often I'd become disgusted with the humans, but how many times I'd enjoyed what they had to offer. I thought of all needless slaughters I'd seen---the Inquisition, the Native Americans, the Holocaust. I thought about Minorus and the nymph Aetros had killed, and how he'd arbitrarily played with Euriphides' Thread, considering doing the same to him. I thought of Euriphides, crouched behind me; sincere, eccentric and utterly dippy, but wonderful in his own right, my best friend in all the world.

I hated Aetros.

The feeling radiated from me so strongly the god finally noticed my presence. He turned his head in my direction as I leapt from the stairwell, Achilles' sword in one hand, Perseus' bag in the other.

"STOP!" I shouted.

He laughed.

"Oh, by my mother," he chortled, "Artemis, what have you lowered yourself to?" He turned back to me and grinned. "You think I didn't know what you were up to, you disgusting little satyr? Now put down that sword."

"They say it'll cut through anything," I growled, "Even you."

He narrowed his eyes. "Come here and try," he challenged.

"I don't have to," I told him, and pulled part of his Thread from the bag.

His smile only broadened. "Achilles' sword is powerful, but not that powerful. Perhaps in another god's hands it could harm me. But you---I don't think so." He put on a good act, but I could feel his fear. It became clear he wasn't certain what the sword would do. "Now put the blade down," he ordered, tightening his grip on Artemis' Thread, "Or I'll kill her."

"You were going to kill her anyway," I replied, fuming.

He thought for a moment. "I'll tell you what," he said, brightening a bit, "If you give up this nonsense, I'll let you lie with her before I kill her. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Now Euriphides may be that stupid, but I'm not. "Piss off!"

Aetros' face took on a momentary look of shock at my reply.

A moment was all I needed.

I threw Aetros' Thread down on the floor and raised Achilles' sword above my head. My mind was reeling with anger.

`I hate I hate I hate I hate I hate I hate...'

I thought of Euriphides again, and then of Aetros.

`I hate I hate I hate I hate I LOVE I hate...'

I heard Artemis scream my name---too late.

A hand closed around my wrist. I was so filled with rage that at first I didn't even feel it, but then it clamped down so hard I heard my wrist break. I let out a shriek. As I spun around to face this new threat I was thrown to the ground. Achilles' sword slipped from my hand and fell with a clatter to the marble floor. I looked up.

"You stupid goat," growled Euriphides---with Aetros' voice.

"'Riph---?!" I blurted. I quickly looked over my shoulder at Aetros. The god threw back his head in mocking laughter, then faded away like mist. I turned back to Euriphides, wide-eyed and frozen to the spot.

Euriphides---or the being who I had thought was Euriphides---rippled in the air before me, and his image was replaced with Aetros'. "I don't seem to have your Thread with me at the moment," he said in a deadly tone, "but I don't think I'll need it." He reached down, and before I could snap out of my fear and dodge away, his hands were wrapped around my throat and he was hauling me off the floor. He began to shake me. I panicked and began to thrash; I was so terrified I think I actually bleated. Purely out of instinct, I pulled up my legs as far as I could, and with a choked cry slammed my hooves into him.

I was quite surprised when they connected with his crotch, not because of where they landed, but because of the effect it had.

For all his power, Aetros howled, dropped me, and doubled over, as crumpled and disabled as any mortal man would be. I scrambled across the floor and grabbed Achilles' sword with my good hand. The god's Thread was still laying on the floor. Again I raised the sword above my head, and brought it down with a roar.

`This is for Minorus, you bastard.'

There was an explosion of light and pain, and I thought that was what dying must be like. Everything went black for a bit, and then I heard Artemis calling my name. I opened my eyes and saw her bending over me, looking disheveled and a bit concerned, her hands on her knees.

"What happened?" I croaked.

"You did it," she informed me with a weak smile, "You killed him."

I managed to sit up, and from there the goddess helped me to my feet. I looked around. Aetros' Thread was gone, and Achilles' sword was lodged in the floor. Artemis had to pull it out for me.

"Euriphides..." I murmured. I turned to the Huntress. "Was he Aetros all along?"

"I don't know," she replied.

"You don't think he killed Euriphides, too?"

"I don't know," Artemis repeated.

"What will happen to Thetis and Prometheus?" I asked.

"They'll be dealt with. You don't have to worry about them coming after you." Artemis heaved a sigh. "Well," she said, "I believe I owe you something."

I barely heard her as I stared at the sword in my hand. "What?"

"You wanted to love," she reminded me.

I looked up at her. "I don't think I'll need your help to achieve that anymore," I told her. We stared at each other for a few moments, and then I turned away, heading for the stairwell.

"Wait!" she called after me, "Where are you going? We still need to find the Fates!"

"Find 'em yourself," I growled. "I've done my good deed for the millenium." I tromped down the stairs to the basement, changed back to my human form, and got my clothes on. I tucked Achilles' sword under my coat and headed off into the night, gingerly holding my broken wrist. For some reason I headed toward Forbes Avenue, away from the Schenley Park.

As I drew near the fraternity houses on the corner, I saw someone stagger out onto the street. He saw me coming, squinted at me, then yelled, "Thaylos! Over 'ere!" and burst into a fit of laughter.

I didn't recognize the face, but I knew the voice, and as I drew near, I caught the familiar, musky smell. "Euriphides?" I called back.

He stumbled up to me. "You look horrible, my dear boy," he said, and giggled again. "I went to the park to look for you," he explained, "but you weren't around, so I went to the parties without you. Jolly good time. Completely makes up for that fiasco in New York." He flashed me a lopsided grin and threw an arm around my shoulder. "Why don't we celebrate having so much fun by having more fun?" he asked. "Let's go back to that lovely Japanese restaraunt."

"Chinese," I corrected, and laughed. I patted the sword resting under my coat. "Maybe later," I told him. "Right now I have to return a sword to a certain nymph I know."

Faye Levine is a Sophomore Illustration major at Carnegie Mellon University. Over the summer her brain stagnated, and the stress of returning to school melted it entirely. Her thoughts of late have been occupied with mythology and killer bunnies; in fact, she and her pet rabbit are currently working on a book entitled _Separated_at_Birth?_The_Striking_Parallels_Between_Zeus_and_ _Elvis_. By the time you all read this, she'll be back home, freezing her butt off in Minnesota.

fl0m+@andrew.cmu.edu