"Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality." - Edgar Allen Poe

"Hermes?"

"Uh huh. You know... the guy with wings on his sandals?"

"Right." This brave new world never failed to grow stranger every day. I said to Atsheena., "Please don't go. I need you. I will be with you, no matter what."

She returned to her task at the stove, hiding her tear-filled eyes. "I'll stay as long as I feel I can," she said, and I knew it was the best promise she could make just then.

"Atsheena?" I began, trying hard to shift gears and adjust to this new bit of information presented to me.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Are all of the so-called gods real?"

"I've only met a few. I suspect, like with all of the creatures of legend, they're all based in some bit of truth," she said.

"Have you met this one?"

She carried on with her work as she spoke. This was obviously not as impressive of a moment for her as it was for me. "Not Hermes, no. But I've heard of him. He's like a popular kid at school. I'm just the girl

"Can I trust him?" I asked her.

She shrugged. "I wouldn't go so far as to say you can trust him. He's a thief. He's sneaky and known to serve his own ends. He has, from time to time, caused some extraordinary bits of trouble among humans but, for all that, he's not a bad guy. His heart is good. He will consistently choose the Light over the Darkness. Ages ago... I mean a long time ago... so long that it's a time of faint and distant memory, even for those such as Raziel, Hermes helped to defeat some of immense strength who moved against The Light. He was brave in battle and great Good resulted from his intervention."

OK, so that wasn't all bad but it wasn't exactly a glowing endorsement, either. I braced myself to meet the unexpected visitor.

The Greek god, Hermes, looked exactly like I'd expected: as thin and muscled, lithe and graceful as a cat, with curly dark hair and warm brown eyes.

He gave a polite little half bow. "Prophet."

I was as bemused as Susan had appeared to be. Hermes was in my dining room. He was a celebrity, even among the creatures of legend, and I was a tiny bit star-struck. "Welcome to our little community. What brings you among us today?"

"Thank you," he said, with a charming smile. "If you'll forgive me, the matter I am here about is fairly urgent. I'd like to get right to the point."

"By all means."

"I'd like to get in touch with my son."

"I'm afraid I don't understand how I can help you with that," I said.

He spread his hands wide, "Well, he lives here with you, does he not?"

"Here?" I genuinely had no idea what he was talking about. "I'm afraid not."

"No?" He rubbed at the five o'clock shadow on his chin. "I was quite certain that he was here. Alexandros? Cute kid." He smiled. "Looks like his dad."

I gasped in understanding. Alex. The kid who could build anything, who just knew stuff, and who had, more than once, been caught helping himself to the belongings of others. "Alex is your son? I had no idea! I thought..." I trailed off, not wanting to be rude.

"You thought he was human?" he asked.

"Well, yes," I admitted.

Hermes shrugged. "His mother was human. She was a lovely woman, pretty in form and bright in wit and as brave as anyone I've ever known in this life that has gone on for far too long. She lived with him on a little farm. When the supposed king demanded that she use her land to produce food and crops as he deemed fit, she refused and told him to go back the Hell from which he came. He had her executed and took her land and everything on it." He said all of this in the disturbingly matter-of-fact way of one who has seen far too much death during millennia of life. "The boy escaped. I didn't know, at first, what had happened. When I found out, I assumed that the child had died with his mother but then, when I looked into the matter further, it became clear that he was still alive. I followed his trail here."

I was astonished. "How is it that none of us recognized that he wasn't human?"

"Well, he is. More or less. Did you see nothing special in him?" He asked.

"Yes. The child is extraordinary, but there have been extraordinary humans through the years," I said.

"Or perhaps, through the years, the sons of the gods have dallied with the daughters of men more often than you realize," he suggested.

Point taken. "Alex is probably out back building some gadget or fixing one. It's what he does all day and half the night. We try to get him interested in other things but he is quite passionate."

"He has a gift. Sometimes gifts have a way of taking over our identity." He smiled at me in a knowing way. "We are very alike, you know," Hermes said.

"Are we?" I was curious what he meant by that. I saw few similarities.

"Of course. For both of us, our destiny is wrapped up in serving as a messenger between men and those who are not men. You were born on one side of the veil. I was created on the other, but we both stand, now, with a foot on either side.

"Do you think that our messages are heard?"

"Yes. I think it is heard and I think it is understood. As to whether or not it will be heeded, well, I suppose we will find out. I know many things. I have many gifts. Seeing the future is not one of them."

"Raziel is constantly telling me that the future is unknowable."

he said, rolling his eyes. I couldn't help but laugh. "He's right, though," Hermes continued. "None of us can know the future as a certainty. Free will is constantly in motion and creatures will make surprising choices all the time. Especially humans. There's no telling what a human will do! But there are probabilities, you know? Think of it like this: if you look at a twenty year old man who is a regular user of illicit drugs would you guess that, over the next ten years he would sober up and become a successful businessman? Or lose himself to his addiction and wind up in prison for some petty crime he had intended to commit only as a way to support his habit? You can't know the man's future because it is his, alone, to build, but some roads lead to others."

At that moment Michael ushered Alex into the room and the conversation took off in rapid Greek, punctuated with a great deal of hugging and kissing and laughter.

My heart ached for my oldest son, even as my younger one pushed himself under my arm, the fingers of his left hand corked securely in his mouth and his right arm wound tightly around my leg.

We invited the werewolves to join us for dinner. Their presence added an air of festivity. They were boisterous, unmannered, and hilarious. Gaia came with them, and I basked in the comfort of her presence. By the time the food was served, Hermes seemed like part of our group. Atsheena was right about him being like one of the popular kids at school. He was stunningly charismatic. Everyone was drawn to him. In particular, he and Michael seemed to have some sort of instant male bonding thing going on. I observed their banter from my vantage point of one whose soul is slightly detached from their body. Everything seemed so distant now. If it weren't for the warm, solid weight of little Ike on my lap, I'd simply drift up into the sky and separate into an infinite number of particles, each destined to waft through the many universes forever.

Hermes told Michael. "I respect that you are a talented painter. Art is great. I've always had an appreciation for it. But I prefer the spoken word, myself. It's clearer. There's less chance for confusion and misunderstanding."

"I'm not so sure about that. It seems to me that people get confused and misunderstand one another all the time," Michael retorted. "Plus, haven't you ever heard it said that a picture is worth a thousand words."

"Ahhh," Hermes leaned back in his chair and raised one finger in the air. He was clearly enjoying himself immensely. "But all of that, the confusion, the misunderstandings, and the need for a thousand words could be corrected by the proper use of language. Those who fail to make themselves clear or who babble on: they're simply not masters of the form."

"Charles Dickens is considered a master of the form and he could go on for hours about what he ate for dinner. And don't even get me started on Melville! Tens of thousands of words to say 'The whale was big.' Let me paint a picture of a whale next to a tiny fishing boat and you'll instantly understand that the beast is massive."

"Dickens. Melville. Authors." Hermes waved a dismissive hand. "Their works are sempiternal."

Michael laughed. "Remind me never to play Scrabble with you."

Hermes chuckled and then said, "Have you seen Alex in the last few minutes?" He looked around for a moment and then narrowed his eyes. "Were there any of those cookies left?"

No one could recall seeing the boy since before dinner.

Judith answered him. "Yes. There was a whole plate full. I told the children they could have them tomorrow when they'd finished the studies they've been working on."

His fist thumped the table. "That kid!" the Greek god stomped off to the kitchen to retrieve his thieving son. I wondered if Zeus ever chased Hermes or if he just tossed lightning bolts at him. Even in my pathetic state, the image caused the corners of my mouth to curve up. I imagined Hermes was probably quite the pompous little turd when he was Alex's age. I knew first hand that the "tween" years could be... well... sempiternal. I stopped that thought right there. To dwell on my "tween" and what would have been would undo me. I focused, instead, on my husband, leaning forward on his elbows to tell me something.

"You know what sounds good right now, even if we did just eat a perfectly adequate dinner?" he asked.

"What?"

"Lena's pizza."

I sighed. "Ahhh. I can almost taste their spicy sauce. I would need cold pumpkin ale to wash it down."

"Perfect!" he said. "I really love you, Simone."

I looked into his eyes and found the warm, beautiful, comforting peace within him that I'd always adored. "I love you too, my husband. Always and forever. I miss you." I became conscious, then, of the fact that I wasn't just mourning my son. I was mourning everything that I'd so loved and cherished about our lives together as a family in the days before chaos reigned. I decided on the spot to tell him what he probably already knew. "Things have been... slipping. I don't know how long I can keep this up. I'm cracking, Michael. Something about this constant flow of Power. Missing Donny. Everything... I just... I was not built to endure this. I may have a spirit but I am physical. At least for now."

"I have faith in you," he whispered, brushing the bare skin on the back of my hand and resting his hand on my sleeve. It was the maximum contact he could bear, and I suspected it caused him a bit of discomfort.

"A lot of people have faith in me. Maybe that's part of the problem. I've never been great under pressure."

"You've done better than anyone else ever possibly could have in these past few months."

Hermes came back to the table and dropped into his chair with an air of mild defeat. I suspected the cookies were a lost cause. "So I came here for my boy.I found him well and cared for and, for that, I thank you. But I also come bearing news for your community."

I wanted to groan out loud. Experience taught me good news always came quickly. When the messenger waited for the right moment it was because he was about to share something unpleasant. Was it too much to ask to just live in a happy little bubble of oblivion? Isn't that exactly what Acedia offers? I pushed that thought aside and focused on the moment at hand.

"Tesscati knows you're here and, man! Girl, he does not like you. Apparently you caused a bunch of people in his city to turn tail. A legion of the creatures of the realms defected because of your message. Then you burned up some of his favorite goons. You even had the audacity to give hope to the dying and save a few lives, so... yeah. Remember what he did to the city down the street? Well, those guys haven't got too far to get to you and they seem to be headed this way so, if I were you, I'd pack it up and move on before they get here."

He was coming for us. I wasn't surprised. I closed my eyes and sent out the only plea a desperate, weary woman could send to a God who had asked for everything. Help me. Ike shifted uncomfortably and slid off my lap to make his way to where the other children were getting ready for bed as Power filled me. Gaia took my hand in hers. I was thankful for her grounding presence.

I tapped my glass to get everyone's attention. I asked Hermes. "Will you please tell us what you know?"

"Tesscati is moving against you," he began and there was a general murmur of worry. The werewolves growled. "He is coming, personally leading his army, and he'll destroy everything in his path. He'll be here by the morning after tomorrow. That's all I've heard, and I hear a great deal."

"We need to send runners to warn anyone living in the area to run or take cover. He'll show no mercy," Susan suggested and I sensed agreement from the people around the table.

"I know where we can get at least two dozen high quality rifles. It's not exactly a military arsenal but it's a start. It might hold them off just a little longer, until we can get something better," Andy offered in a quickly-scrawled note. The deaf and mute man at whom I'd raged had been showing extraordinary leadership skills and doing far more than his fair share of work around the compound, but this wasn't the first time I had the thought that perhaps he wasn't quite fully comprehending the peace and love message we promoted.

"I know how to set an explosive," Eddie said, earning him a few odd glances and raised eyebrows. "What?" He asked. "A guy picks up skills."

Maybe that's the whole point. Raziel's words echoed in my mind. I met Freyja's gaze across the table. From the look in her eyes I was certain she was remembering my time in her realm. I have to wonder if more war will bring us something new and better, she'd said.

I made a decision. "No," I said, nipping the discussion in the bud before it could get any real momentum. "That's not the message we stand for. This place is supposed to represent something new and better. Since the beginning of the age, humans have been killing and fighting wars and where has it gotten us? We won't fight. We will kill no one. Not one soul. Life and death will be in the hands of That Which Is, alone."

"He's coming with an army! He'll decimate us!" Andy argued in his silent way.

Michael's voice rang soft and strong. "He'll decimate us no matter what. We are a handful of unarmed, untrained civilians. He has a fully equipped army of supernatural creatures. If Simone says we are to face this in faith, then we will. If we don't trust her to lead us in a new way of doing things, what are any of us doing here?"

I wanted to weep with love for him. The thought crossed my mind that it would be awfully nice to just in the car with my husband and child and drive away to some perpetually sunny place and never look back. But, of course, that wasn't an option anymore. As he'd reminded me a short time earlier, far too many were counting on me.

"If we aren't going to fight, what are we going to do?" Eddie asked.

He will destroy you, prophet.

We will stand with you.

He cannot be stopped.

You will not be alone.

"We are going to stand in faith," Freyja said.

I agreed. "And we are going to protect as many as we can. Knock on every door. Track every being you can, and warn them. Tell them they are welcome here if they wish to come. This place is open to them, and it has been blessed, though we can make no guarantees of anyone's safety. If they say they will fight, advise them against it. If they're going to run tell them to run far and fast, and don't look back. That goes for all of you, too. No one will think less of you if you go."

"This is foolishness!" Andy wrote and thrust the note into my hand.

I smiled at him, knowing my face showed every bit of my exhaustion. "Faith often is," I said. "This is a new way and it's better. We have to believe that." I was working hard to convince myself as well as everyone else.

"I can't agree to stand still while my pack and our allies are slaughtered," Charles said. "We won't turn away from you, but we will return to the woods."

"I understand," I told him.

When we were out of earshot, I asked Freyja, "Are we doing the right thing?"

Her smile was as warm as ever. "That's for you to decide. You're the leader here, not me."

"But what do you think?" I asked.

"I think the Light is very powerful in you."

"That sounds like something Raziel would say. It's not very reassuring," I complained.

She kissed my cheek. "We're all with you, Simone. You're not alone."

Her support echoed that of the others, but it did little to calm the fear that chipped away at me.

We moved as quickly as we could, spreading out in ever-widening circles to get the word out. After all I'd learned, I was astonished at how many people remained in the area. Most of them choose to stay. "We've made it this long," they said. A handful came to the compound, full of fear, and hope, and prayers for another day, and an end to the turmoil. Hermes took his son and went toward destinations unknown.

On the appointed day, as dawn broke over the horizon, I stood on the sturdy slate roof of the old factory. Michael and Eddie, Jake, Andy and Fayette stood with me watching as the werewolves emerged from the forest. They prowled through the overgrown fields, shrouded by the morning mist. The others were tucked inside, the children hidden in the storm shelter beneath the building with Judith and Atsheena reading them fairy tales and feeding them warm, crusty bread and milk to keep them quiet and pacified.

The army was still three or four miles away but their presence was already undeniable. The horizon was filthy with smoke. They were like a plague of locusts, destroying everything in their path. I prayed for those who'd remained in their homes.

"It's not too late to fight." Eddie said, next to me.

"No. We've been fighting for an entire age and it's gotten us nowhere. Nothing good comes from war," I told him. The words were not mine. My broken heart wanted any excuse to fight, but that which spoke through me was bigger than my pain.

"The Jews who were freed from the concentration camps by trucks full of soldiers might have said differently," he answered. I said nothing. What could be said? Then I heard Freyja's musical voice addressing him.

"Do you consider yourself a Christian?" she asked.

"I reckon. I always went to the First Presbyterian Church on Franklin Street with my old granny when I was a kid. Not so much when I got older, but I still remembered the lessons I learned there and I always voted Republican."

I rolled my eyes.

"Well you know there are some amazing stories in the Christian Bible of God conquering a troublesome adversary without anyone having to raise a sword to his fellow man. Do you remember Gideon?"

Eddie grumbled, "Well I don't have the whole Bible memorized."