CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

Oh River, You Heartbreaker, Part 1

“Are you…the Achelous?” Thunder asked.

The automaton trained its glowing eyes on her. It scrutinized Thunder’s face a long moment before a smile appeared on its mechanical face.

“Indeed, I am, my dear,” he answered.

Sam noticed that the mouth had moved when Achelous spoke which was unlike the automaton they’d encountered underneath the lake. More proof that a god now inhabited its insides.

Achelous’ head dipped down so that his smiling face drew closer to Thunder’s face. That’s when he asked her if she was single.

Thunder raised an eyebrow at it. “Excuse me?”

“Hmm… you’re not very bright.” He rose back to full height, although his eyes never left hers, and his smile never vanished. “No matter. You’re pretty enough, and I’m fine with just that.”

The confusion on Thunder’s face quickly turned hostile. “Are you…are you hitting on me?”

“Hitting on you?” Achelous looked aghast. “Why would I hit such a pretty—Oh!”

He let out a strange chuckle that sounded a lot like the wheezing of an old engine.

“Hitting on you—that’s what you mortals call courtship nowadays, isn’t it?” Achelous looked extremely satisfied that he figured that out for himself. Then, with an even wider smile, he said, “Yes, I’m hitting on you. In fact…”

The bronze automaton uncoiled itself from the ground with a series of clicking and banging noises and then slid closer to where Thunder stood by the edge of the sandy bank.

“How would you like to become the bride of a god?” he asked, his tone confident.

Thunder seemed too flabbergasted to answer this inappropriate proposal, so it was Sam’s duty to step between her and this god of weird priorities.

“She’s not here to be your wife, sir,” Sam insisted.

It was no small thing to stare down a god, even one as obscure as Achelous. But Sam managed it just fine because he was annoyed with how Achelous was inappropriately hitting on Thunder. After all, this dirty old god was thousands of years old, which made him the very definition of creepy to Sam’s eyes.

For the first time, Achelous finally acknowledged Sam’s presence with an expression similar to one who notices a bug crawling by his foot.

“Let me guess, you’re the boyfriend,” Achelous said sullenly.

If Thunder had looked flabbergasted before, now it was Sam’s turn. His cheeks flared red as he stuttered, “I-I’m not…I mean… um, I, uh, no…”

“Wow, that was embarrassing,” Farsight chuckled from behind Sam.

“Knock it off,” Jackboot chided. Then he added, “He’s clearly trying to avoid admitting—”

Thunder cleared her throat.

“No?” The automaton didn’t have eyebrows, but Sam imagined it would have raised them if it did. “Then she’s free after all?”

“Wait,” Sam frowned, “that’s not what I—”

“Wonderful!” Achelous twiddled his fingers in delight. “We can have the wedding ceremony right—”

“No, we’re not,” Thunder stepped past Sam so she could confront the god herself. “I’m not getting married. Not here. Not now. And certainly not with you, Lord Achelous.”

Despite that last bit coming off as respectful, even Sam thought the rest of her rejection was harsh. Achelous seemed to think so too. The automaton slid away from her, with its entire form drawing into itself much like a child does after it’s been hurt.

“Of course, you wouldn’t want to marry me,” Achelous said in a defeated tone. “No one does… I’m not one of those bigshot Olympians who drive the fancy chariots… I’m just a simple god sitting by his river…”

Then, to Sam’s surprise, Achelous raised his head to the sky and began to sing.

“Oh, sad river, wider than a mile… I’ll cross you in style and joy someday,” he sang. “Oh, dream maker, you heartbreaker… You keep sending these women who pass me by… While I wait round the bend, for true love to find me…”

Sam couldn’t believe it. Especially not after he’d just heard Achelous rip off one of Frank Sinatra’s most famous songs and tweak it to match his circumstance. But Sam did feel sorry for this god of rivers whose story he knew very well.

Once, a long time ago, Achelous had loved a woman that couldn’t be his. So, he stole her away from her family, intending to marry her by a river bend. Whether or not Deianira loved him back was unclear. At least the priestess who’d shared this story with Sam and the other children didn’t know. However, their marriage wasn’t meant to be because a hero had stumbled upon them, and believing Deianira to be a damsel-in-distress, Hercules beat up Achelous. He even broke off one of his horns, which to guys with horns must have been a huge insult. Even worse, at least for Achelous, was the fact that Deianira ended up becoming Hercules’ second wife, which Sam realized now must have been a heartbreaking experience.

He glanced sideways at Thunder, saw her face soften at Achelous’s song, and wondered how he would feel if she ever fell for someone else.

“I’m sorry for being mean, Lord Achelous,” Thunder said.

Achelous didn’t respond. He just eyed her skeptically.

She walked over to the god-possessed automaton and gently patted its tail.

“It’s just, this mission we’re on is stressful, and I don’t feel so”—Thunder sighed—“I’m sorry for being mean.”

“Do you mean that?” Achelous asked.

“Yes,” Thunder said as she smiled at him. “So, do you think—”

“Of course, I’ll still marry you, my dear!” Achelous said excitedly. “I knew you were just, as you mortals say, playing hard to get—”

Achelous had dipped his head over to Thunder once more so that their faces were inches away from each other. That’s when she reacted with an electrically-charged slap that smacked against the automaton’s left cheek.

“Sorry!” Thunder apologized as she backed away from the shocked god. “You were just so close and I reacted… and I’m still not marrying you!”

Sam wasn’t entirely sure what he’d just been witnessed to, but it was certainly surreal. He suddenly recalled Thunder once admitting to being courted by Ares, the God of War, and he wondered if she’d rejected him the same way she’d done with Achelous.

As interesting as that might be to hear, I really shouldn’t be having these blasphemous thoughts…or enjoying this so much, Sam chided himself.

“Can someone else please take over?” Thunder asked. “I’m getting nowhere with this guy…”

She hid behind Sam as the automaton—after staring blankly into space for a long while—finally stirred back to life with eyes that blazed red with anger.

“You dare—”

“Excuse me, great Achelous!” Farsight stepped forward and shoved Sam and Thunder out of her way. “I’m Ashley Day, Seer of Apollo and Sister of Fate.”

She grabbed the automaton’s hand while it hung there in mid-rage and shook it.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Farsight said, flashing pearly-white teeth at the automaton.

Achelous’ shift in expression from anger to doubt and then sudden delight was quick and disturbing for Sam who realized that the god was now looking at Farsight with the same lecherous eye he’d given Thunder.

“Dude, she’s only sixteen,” Sam sighed, but Thunder shushed him before saying, “Let her handle it.”

To the groans of Sam and Thunder, and the chuckle of Jackboot behind them, Achelous proposed to Farsight much as he’d done with Thunder.

“You’re a little on the young side, priestess of Apollo, but I like your go-getter attitude,” he said approvingly. “Perhaps you can grow out your hair when we’re wed. It’s a little too short for my—”

“Apologies, Lord Achelous,” Farsight interrupted, “but I’m sure you’re aware that seers are not allowed to wed while we remain in service to Apollo.”

She gave him an expression of regret that Sam couldn’t believe Achelous was buying into.

“The sun god feels that having a seer for a partner would give another god too much of an advantage over”—Farsight’s expression turned contemplative—“Olympus annual lottery…and…daily horoscopes…and…” She looked like she was making this up on the fly, but then she grinned and added, “The Casino of Janus!”

“But I didn’t even know there was an annual lottery, and I certainly don’t gamble,” Achelous complained.

Farsight wagged her finger at him. “Those are still the rules, unfortunately…but…”

Then she offered him her best smile, the kind that would have made an old dirty god such as Achelous’ body tingle. Even an automaton one.

“Maybe if you help us on our quest for the Olympians”—she placed heavy emphasis on that last word—“then maybe I could beseech Apollo to be your wing-man the next time he’s on the mortal plane?”

“The Olympians, you say?” He eyed each member of Sam’s team with renewed interest. “I'm listening... Tell me more.”