Olympia Heights: The Pantheon

Chapter IX

"These things surely lie on the knees of the gods."

-Homer

ix.

She was the most beautiful girl he had seen.

He had torn her robes in his haste to have her.

Now he stood, draping fabric around his hips.

Now she was crying.

She lay curled up on the temple floor, ashamed.

He did not feel any guilt for taking her.

He was used to taking what he desired now.

She should have been pleased.

In his mind he believed that he deserved thanks.

Here she was pulling her clothes about her form.

He took whatever he pleased when he wanted.

She should have complied.

The shrine door slammed open. A woman strode in.

Her straight path was aimed unswervingly for him.

Her hair was pinned; a helmet was set on top,

dressed with a gold owl.

She looked down at the maid who had ceased her tears

and drew her blade from her belt to point at her.

"Your devotions are required no more," she said,

and then back at him.

"Desecrate your own house," she bellowed to him.

He smiled and waved a hand to dismiss her wrath.

"I could not help myself, she was too handsome.

Irresistible."

"That will no longer be a problem," she cried.

She pointed her sword once more at the poor girl.

He turned away as his mortal victim screamed.

Then they heard hissing.

***

"All I know is that I know nothing."

-Socrates.

IX.

Nick Morrisey liked being a hero. He liked attention. He liked praise. He liked girls. With the heroic tale of how he had saved both Valerie and Teddy (because Nick had spared Teddy no embarrassment about his poor swimming) Nick had managed to gather himself a flock of adoring fans. He was sitting high and mighty all week. He might have been more popular than even Zach Jacobs.

Despite his lack of humility, there was something going on behind the cocky smile that week. Nick was worried and confused about the phenomenon that had taken place Saturday. He had breathed water, or at least he thought he had. There was still a level of doubt holding him back from testing this theory. Nick would get into the pool after school and duck his head below the surface. He would take a breath and seemingly be fine. Then his mind would kick in and tell him that this was wrong. This was supposed to be impossible. He'd panic and rise to the surface, expelling the water quickly and coughing to make sure it was all out. He psyched himself out of fully testing it every time. Clearly he wasn't a fish, so clearly he must have been crazy.

Someone else had been thinking about this all week. Theodore Wexler was unsure of what he had seen that day on the beach. He probably should have been preoccupied by the rumors of the serial killer in Olympia Heights. Instead he was replaying the mental recording of Saturday's rescue in his mind. Nick had breathed out water. It had poured from his lungs without making him so much as cough. He was sure he had seen it.