Chapter 4 #2
“No!” Hermes glared and tried to straighten but cowered again when Hades took a step toward him.
At that moment, the other gods began to arrive, one right after the other. Aphrodite and Hephaestus, Athena then Hestia. Artemis, then Ares and Poseidon. Ajax took the mortal route, cresting the steps just as Hecate appeared, his translator, Niko, in tow.
Everyone found their seats amid Hades’s and Hermes’s standoff.
“I didn’t mean…!” Hermes tried to explain, but was cut off by Hecate.
“Did I not warn you last night? That you would ruin Christmas if you did not finish what I started?”
“Can someone explain what the fuck is happening?” said Poseidon, who looked annoyed and bored, slumped in his chair, head resting on his hand.
“Hermes has allowed the Kallikantzaroi into the Upperworld,” Hecate announced.
A collective groan escaped the mouths of the gods. Ajax signed the word fuck.
It was the last thing any of them needed so close to the holidays, but especially since they’d been working to build trust with the mortals again.
The Kallikantzaroi were horrible little devils who loved mischief.
They pissed in food, scratch and bite people with their long claws and teeth, and destroy decorations.
They’d even been known to kidnap children.
The thought put Dionysus on edge. He felt himself leaning forward in his chair, muscles tightening at the threat.
“I said I’d fix it!” Hermes said.
“It is beyond you now,” said Hecate. “But you will certainly pay for your role in this chaos.”
“Can you not eliminate them with a snap of your fingers, Hades?” Aphrodite asked. “That seems like the simplest solution.”
“And send them straight to my realm? No. They have already wreaked havoc and Persephone is inconsolable.”
“The Kallikantzaroi are neither living nor dead. They cannot be killed, only driven back to their home beneath the world.”
“Then we will battle them,” said Ares, eyes gleaming with bloodlust.
“No bloodshed!” Ajax’s signing was aggressive, though Niko spoke with less authority, a note of terror in his voice. “Mortals have had enough. There has to be another way.”
“They are not combative creatures,” said Hecate. “They will hide if you draw weapons.”
The God of War deflated, lips puckering in displeasure.
“It’s ridiculous that we are gods and cannot even banish menacing spirits,” said Artemis.
There were mortals who would agree, but being a god did not make them all-powerful, and perhaps that was for the best. It allowed for balance, for cycles to continue when they would otherwise stop.
The Kallikantzaroi were part of that—a necessary, albeit annoying, representation of the passage of time and a threat to the order they were trying to restore.
“If someone had kept his promise, we wouldn’t need to,” said Hecate.
Ares raised his brows. “You promised? Fuck.”
“I was tired! I battled all day!”
“Why doesn’t matter,” said Niko, interpreting Ajax’s signing. “Nothing changes what has happened. We need a plan for the mortals.”
“Don’t these creatures hate the sun?” asked Poseidon. “Perhaps we should simply suspend dusk.”
“Until Christmas?” Athena said, her tone was flat, displeased. “That is out of the question. Humans rely on the cycle of day and night for their well-being.”
“Besides, the mortals look forward to nighttime during the holidays,” Hestia said. “They decorate for it.”
The Goddess of Hearth and Home was right. Mortals covered their houses and yards and streets in lights. They went out after sunset to walk bright, festive parks and drink hot chocolate. It was an important ritual in post-war life.
“Athena and Hestia are right,” said Hades. “We cannot disrupt their lives more than we already are.”
“We will have to advise the mortals to ward their homes,” said Hecate. “I can prepare a list, but they must choose at least three methods. These spirits are crafty.”
“I thought the Kallikantzaroi were stupid,” said Artemis.
“I suppose they can appear a little dull,” Hecate said. “But they are spirits, made for one purpose. Chaos is all they know, and chaos is all they will create.”
“What is on your list?” Hephaestus asked. “I think it is best we provide the supplies. Families are already stretched thin during the holidays.”
Ajax agreed and thanked Hephaestus for saying so.
“We will need an abundance of old shoes, garlands of holly and garlic, colanders and frankincense, and a few pig jaws.”
“Pig jaws?” Hermes repeated, scrunching his nose.
“Yes,” said Hecate. Every time she looked at the god, she glared.
“Is what you have already listed not enough?” Aphrodite asked. “Perhaps we do not need them.”
“Kallikantzaroi will not cross a threshold where a pig jaw hangs,” she said. “They are valuable wards.”
“It seems difficult to procure an abundance of pig jaws,” Athena pointed out.
“It certainly sounds that way,” said Hecate. “Luckily, Circe has more than enough.”
Circe was a bit of an enigma. She was a Goddess of Sorcery, a master of plants and potions. She lived on the island of Aeaea, having been taken there by her father, Helios, thousands of years ago. Since then, she’d trapped many men, transforming them into pigs.
Dionysus chuckled at the thought of Hermes as a rooting swine.
“Are you suggesting we slaughter her drove?” Hestia asked, a note of disapproval in her voice.
“Of course not,” said Hecate. “I am suggesting we dig up her graveyard…and by we, I mean Hermes.”
The god’s mouth fell open. “Me? You know Circe hates me! She’s never forgiven me for the Odysseus thing.”
The Odysseus thing was Hermes’s interception of the hero before he could approach the witch’s home. The messenger god warned Odysseus that he would not escape the goddess’s clutches and gave him a magic plant which countered her own poisonous drink.
“I do know,” said Hecate. “A fitting punishment for your betrayal.”
“Hecate,” Hermes tried again, desperate, lowering to his knees. “I’ll do anything—”
“You will,” she said. “Including going to Aeaea.”
“Please!” Hermes’s plea echoed, even after he vanished, sent away with the snap of Hades’s fingers.
Everyone looked at the God of the Dead.
“What?” he asked, defensive. “There are only eight hours until nightfall. He had better get to digging.”
There was a beat of silence and then Athena spoke. “So we will instruct the mortals on how to ward their homes, but how will we handle the Kallikantzaroi?”
There was silence as everyone considered options. At length, Aphrodite spoke.
“Do they not like to count?” she asked.
“They try, poor dears,” said Hecate. “But they cannot make it past two. Sometimes they get stuck until daylight, which would benefit us, but sometimes they get bored and abandon the task.”
She frowned, pursing her lips.
“If we can find a way to lure them, I can build a trap,” Hephaestus suggested.
“If the Kallikantzaroi hate light,” said Aphrodite, looking up at her husband. He stared back, adoringly. “Perhaps we should keep a few streets in the dark so that we might drive them into your trap.”
“What do they eat?” Ajax signed.
“Insects, frogs, worms,” said Hecate. “Though, they do have quite the sweet tooth.”
“So we leave a trail of sweets,” said Aphrodite, looking at Hades. “Doesn’t Persephone love to bake?”
“She does,” he replied. “But she is also heavily pregnant.”
“You know she wants to stay busy,” said Hecate.
“And we can help,” Aphrodite offered, gesturing the gathered gods. “Right, Ares?”
The God of War’s brows rose. “Me?”
Dionysus wasn’t sure if his surprise came from the idea of baking, or that Aphrodite had specifically called on him. They’d once been best friends, but his lust for battle had driven them apart during the Olympian War.
“Yes,” she said. “We will all need to contribute.”
Ares’s mouth flattened and after a moment, he nodded once.
“I have one net,” Hephaestus said. “It will not catch as many Kallikantzaroi as we need, but it would be a fine test, and we will know what we should modify for the larger trap.”
“It’s settled then,” said Hades, though he didn’t sound very relieved. “We have a plan.”
They spent the next few minutes dividing up responsibility—Poseidon and Ares would gather the shoes, Athena and Hestia would gather the garlic and holly, and Artemis would gather anything with holes to count while Aphrodite and Persephone baked, and Ajax and Niko would pass out flyers that listed items that would provide the best defense against the Kallikantzaroi.
They also decided where their test trap would go, and Hephaestus left to set it up.
Soon, the gods vanished and only Hades, Hecate, and Dionysus were left.
“What can I do?” Dionysus asked, rising to his feet.
“What you are already doing,” said Hecate. “The Kallikantzaroi hate carolers.”