The closing ring of Greek beings slowed and looked on scornfully. I fully expected Hermes to assume command, to order them back to their holding area, but he only grinned as he arrived beside me. I signaled the Sup Squad to hold fire.

  “We need to talk,” I growled at him.

  “Oh, absolutely. But in the meantime, I need a small favor.”

  “What favor?”

  Hermes turned to his conscripts. “It’s apparent I’ve lost your support, so I’ll make you an offer. Pass a test and I’ll release you, one and all. Fail, and you’ll cease this internecine nonsense and pledge yourselves to the cause.”

  The Greek beings stopped advancing. “What’s the test?” the dwarf shouted back.

  Hermes squeezed my shoulder companionably. “Defeat Everson Croft in battle.”

  5

  I wheeled on Hermes “What?”

  “Yes, you must best the wizard in battle,” he repeated to the others. “But there is a condition. It will be a one-on-one contest, so choose a representative. Go on, talk amongst yourselves. You have five minutes.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m not agreeing to this.”

  But the Greek beings were already congregating near the pitcher’s mound.

  Hermes sidled up to me and whispered, “Don’t worry, my friend. I have faith in you.”

  “That’s not the point.” Blood rushed to my head. “This is your mess, not mine, and I’ve already cleaned up enough after you.”

  “I won’t argue with you there. I’ve been tied up with other things. I should never have left them alone for as long as I did. It’s made them unruly. But what’s done is done. If I didn’t offer them a way out, they’d undermine me at every turn.”

  “Then why don’t you challenge them to a battle?”

  “Because they’d stand no chance, and they know it.”

  “And if I don’t fight?” I said.

  “Well, since I’ve already issued the challenge, it would be considered a forfeit. I return them to the shadow present as agreed, and our situation vis-à-vis Persephone and the Cronus business becomes exceedingly dire.”

  Mythology used one name for gods like Persephone, but there were many variants of her, depending on the cult that worshipped her. This particular version of Persephone was a wronged god, a vengeful god. And having taken form in the shadow present, she was acting accordingly.

  Her ambition was to free Cronus from Tartarus and refight the epic battle against the Olympic gods, payback for her abysmal treatment. If Cronus were to prevail in the Titanochamy 2.0, he would replace all of humankind with a mindless race of worshippers. And once that worship granted him sufficient power, the god of time would be able to transit from the shadow realm and wipe out humankind here.

  Persephone had very nearly succeeded in calling him up at an old explorers club. I grimaced now as I recalled my battle with Eldred, who had severed his own neck with Cronus’s scythe.

  “But you will fight and you will win,” Hermes continued, bringing me back to the park. “And then I have some information to share.”

  “So you’ve been using Alec this past week,” I said.

  “Why the sour tone, my friend? You knew the arrangement.”

  “From now on, I want you to tell me what you’re doing with him.”

  “We can stand here debating the matter, or I can give you a rundown of our friends so you’ll be prepared for the one you may face.” Hermes tapped his wrist. “The clock is ticking.”

  If he weren’t using Alec’s body as a vessel, I might have smacked the amused look from his face. I glanced at the six beings. They’d been arguing loudly, but their voices fell now, as if nearing agreement.

  When I looked back at Hermes, I noted how his presence transformed Alec’s face, from young and earnest to wily and knowing. I didn’t like it, but I couldn’t banish the god, not without jeopardizing Alec.

  “You’re taking care of him, right?” I said.

  “How can I not? I’m utterly dependent on him.”

  I’d been counting on that dependence to protect Alec, and Hermes’s confirmation helped a little.

  I nodded at the Greek beings. “If I agree to this, what defines victory?”

  “Your opponent being unable to continue, however that may come about. Short of death or annihilation, of course.”

  That took banishment off the table. I dispersed the final bit of power from my blade’s first rune and sighed. “Go ahead. Tell me about them.”

  Hermes clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “That’s the spirit! Given the constraints of time, the profiles will be brief. We’ll start with that tall drink of water. I assume you’ve heard of Hippolyta?”

  “Queen of the Amazons? That’s her?”

  I was about to be seriously impressed with Hermes’s recruiting efforts.

  “No, Madge,” he said. “One of Hippolyta’s daughters. The weakest, in fact, but an Amazon nonetheless, a warrior. Not nearly the stature of her mother, but she has the blood of Ares in her. She’s their most likely choice. But listen, she wears a zoster, a special belt. Strip her of it, and her power diminishes.”

  I could make out a subtle bulge at the waist of the Amazon’s tracksuit. Though I didn’t relish the idea of ungirding her, it was good to know.

  “What about the centaur?” I asked.

  “Ahh, Phrixus. Powerful and skilled with a bow, but a bit of a drunkard. He did attempt to steal the wine of Pholos, after all, and was slain for his efforts. I doubt he’d be their unanimous choice.” As Hermes said this, the centaur took a long pull from his wineskin.

  “Hey!” The dwarf waved for our attention. “No potions or spells, all right?”

  Hermes turned to me. “Are you comfortable with just invocations?”

  “I don’t know. Should I be?”

  Hermes nodded back at the group as if the stipulation were fine. The dwarf flashed a cruel smile before rejoining the huddle.

  “He looks like he’s sporting for a fight,” I remarked.

  “Priapus? Yes, well, can you blame him?”

  “Wait, Priapus the god?”

  “A minor god, and one cursed with incredibly bad fortune. It’s made him surly.”

  I remembered the story. Jealous of Priapus’s mother, Hera cursed her son-to-be with trollish ugliness. And that wasn’t the worst of it. As a god of fertility, Priapus sported a permanent erection. That no doubt explained his baggy pants and awkward walk.

  “Wasn’t he banned from Olympus for his looks?” I asked. “I can’t imagine he’d side with them against Persephone.”

  “Yes, that might take some convincing, but I couldn’t be choosy. While the power of my tablet attracted several objects to the city, only a few hold enough of the old worship to allow a being to take form. In the case of Priapus, that worship was contained in a phallic symbol made of copper—wonderful for storing energy. It’s a part of his form, but his plums are his own. A well-placed shot will steal his thunder, if you follow. Be alert, though. He’s known to use his phallus as a bludgeoning weapon.”

  I pictured what that would look like and wished I hadn’t.

  “I think I’d prefer fighting one of the nymphs,” I muttered.

  “Hmm, I’m not so sure. They wield considerable magic. The one with the white hair is a nymph of comets. And the green-haired one is a vine nymph. Their real names are hard for human tongues to wrap around, so let’s just refer to them as Comet and Ivy, shall we?”

  “We’ve made our choice!” Madge the Amazon announced.

  “Ah, time’s up, I’m afraid,” Hermes said to me. “And whom have you chosen?” he called back.

  “Koalemos!” she answered.

  The slack-jawed man who had been wandering around while the others conferred stopped now and blinked dully.

  I stared at Hermes. “The god of stupidity?”

  “Like I said, I couldn’t afford to be choosy.”

  “Yeah, no kidding.” I looked over the motley collection of beings. “But why did they choose him?”

  “I’m sorry, the contest has begun,” he said. “I can’t help you anymore.” He lowered his voice. “But remember, they’re all born of artifacts from the Old World. Separate them from said artifacts, and you’re halfway to victory.” As he backed away, he jostled his backpack to indicate his own tablet.

  The rest of the Greek beings followed Hermes from the baseball diamond until it was just me and Koalemos.

  6

  To that point I hadn’t paid Koalemos much attention—he’d remained apart from the fighting, and Hermes hadn’t placed him high in the pecking order of likely opponents.

  I took a moment now to size up the god of stupidity. His scruffy sun-bleached surfer ’do framed a pair of puffy eyes and a jaw that hung slightly askew. There was nothing remotely imposing about the god. He looked like a stoner who mooched off his friends. Still, the group had selected him for a reason.

  Pulling my cane into sword and staff, I began to circle him, cautiously.

  He blinked slowly as he tracked me—or tried to. His eyes couldn’t seem to keep up with my progress. I glanced at where the others had gathered beyond the fence. Was this some kind of joke? But they wore resolute expressions, no chuckles or knowing grins.

  I spotted Hermes atop the outfield fence where he’d taken a seat, legs kicking idly. He pointed at Koalemos as though telling me to keep my head in the game.

  The god of stupidity had given up trying to track me and was scratching an armpit. I leveled my sword at him, but surprising him with a force blast felt dishonorable. More than that, it felt dangerous. Again, for reasons still beyond my grasp, the group was of the consensus that he was their best shot.

  “You understand we’re supposed to be fighting, right?” I asked him.

  With considerable effort, Koalemos focused on me. “Fighting? Each other?” He released a lazy staccato laugh. “Gnarly.”

  Great, they pitted me against Jeff Spicoli.

  I recalled Hermes’s words, how these beings were all born of artifacts from the Old World. What would Koalemos’s be? I struggled to recall where I’d read about him. It was a wonder the god had ever been worshipped given his scarce presence in the literature, not to mention what he represented. He wore no jewelry that I could see. No obvious bulges in the pockets of his Baja hoodie or knee-length shorts.

  Need to get him in a position where I can pat him down.

  From my satchel, I pulled out a polyethylene sheet, unfolded it, and spread it over the turf. A large copper casting circle glimmered at the sheet’s center. If I could get him inside the circle, I could detain him long enough to perform a thorough search. I backed away until the circle lay between me and the god.

  “Koalemos?” I called.

  He’d begun to stare vacantly at the sun, but my voice brought him back. His slack mouth drew into a slow smile, as if I were someone he’d met before, but he couldn’t quite remember who or where.

  “Aloha, bud,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “Would you mind stepping over here?”

  “Sure, no problemo.”

  He sauntered up to the sheet’s edge and looked down at the circle. “What the heck’s this?”

  “It’s a, ah, magical scale. Your friends have been a little concerned about your recent weight loss.”

  I sucked at ad-libbing. When Koalemos remained staring down at the circle, not moving, I was sure I’d blown it. But he was only slow to process my explanation because a few seconds later he snuffed out a laugh, said, “Righteous,” and shuffled his canvas slip-ons onto the sheet, bunching it all up.

  “Now what?” he asked.

  “Okay, wait a sec.” I hustled over. “Can you lift this foot up? All right, now this one?”

  Though I’d invoked a protective field around myself, I winced as I straightened the sheet beneath him, certain the god was going to surprise me with a prodigious blow to the back of the head. But he complied, if sloppily, until both shoes were squarely inside the circle.

  I scooted back and uttered, “Cerrare.”

  The circle glowed, and a column of gold-hued light grew around him. Koalemos laughed in surprise and peered from his enclosure with glittering eyes. “Whoa.”

  “Hold as still as you can.”

  All right, now I just need to… I hesitated. Needed to what?

  The thought seemed to teeter at the edge of a cliff, almost within grasp, before plummeting from sight. I stared vacantly at the gold column holding Koalemos. What did I need to do?

  I tried to haul the thought back up, but it was gone, lost in the abyss. I released a laugh, one that sounded sharp with disbelief in my mind but that emerged dull and stupid, much like Koalemos’s.

  Is that his power? I thought distantly. Inflicting his stupidity on others?

  If so, he was using my magic as a conduit. I opened my mouth to disperse the circle, but my jaw hung slack. I couldn’t recall the word.

  “Misfire,” I tried. “No, no… Dust bin. Dammit, that’s not it… Dishwasher.”

  With each word, Koalemos chortled, but it wasn’t malicious. In fact, he didn’t appear to have the slightest clue of his effect on me. I made a few more attempts, each one more absurd than the last. For the life of me, I couldn’t come up with the freaking word. I screwed up my face as if that might wring it from my brain.

  Suddenly, it fell out of my mouth: “Disfare.”

  Articulation was everything when it came to Words of Power, and this one emerged slurred. The resulting dispersion was a mess. The column wobbled and sagged, like a failing vase on a potter’s wheel, then blew out. The brunt of the detonation lifted me from my feet. In the next moment, the outfield fence rattled violently against me, and I fell to the turf. Cheers erupted from the Greek beings.

  “Stomp his ass!” the Amazon bellowed.

  “Psst,” Hermes whispered from his perch above me. “Remember what I told you.”

  Back in the infield, Koalemos was stepping from the circle. Though my magic no longer surrounded him, my stupidity lingered.

  I struggled to recall what Hermes had said earlier, but I could barely remember what we were even doing here. A plastic shopping bag tumbled across the outfield, distracting me. When it snagged on the fence, I thought, Cool.

  Cool? What was cool about a fucking piece of garbage?

  A shadow loomed over me, and a canvas shoe came down and planted itself firmly on my neck. “I’m just constricting your carotid until you pass out,” Koalemos said, sounding oddly intelligent.

  Right on, I mouthed.

  “It shouldn’t hurt,” he added.

  When I tried to nod, the pressure of his foot made the motion impossible. My smile warped into a grimace. But it wasn’t until everything began to waver that my calm acceptance of the situation—an acceptance bordering on appreciation—turned to mild panic. And what was with all the cheering?

  I angled my gaze to where Phrixus the centaur was clapping his hands and stomping his front hooves. Madge was pounding a fist into her palm in a form of applause, while Priapus waved the front of his tented pants back and forth. Even the sweet-looking nymphs were screaming for Koalemos to smite me.

  From the fence, Hermes watched the action intently.

  It suddenly occurred to me that I was supposed to be fighting this guy.

  I swung my staff around only to discover my hands were empty. I’d lost my casting implements in the blast. Gripping Koalemos’s ankle, I twisted one way then the other, but his foot held firm. He adjusted his stance until he was compressing what shielding remained around my throat into my larynx.

  “Struggling will only expend your remaining oxygen,” he said.

  Damn, he’s right, I thought as clouds began eddying through my vision.

  But how was he right? He was supposed to be a god of stupidity, not sensible observations.

  I stopped thrashing long enough to think. Like dragging an ill-formed object from the mud, a concept began to take shape. Transference. He’d induced stupidity in me, yes, but he’d also acquired my smarts. It was a two-way street. The insight didn’t help, but it explained what was happening.

  It also told me that if I didn’t do something in the next few seconds, the contest was over.

  From the ground I could see up the front of Koalemos’s baggy shirt. Something dangled against his chest.

  I instinctively stretched a hand for the beaded necklace but only got as far as his knee. My arm gave out, collapsing to my side. Beyond the hand, I could see where my sword and staff had fallen. Too distant to grasp.

  Back at my fallen hand, my fingers jerked. I dimly recalled teaching myself to sign basic invocations, but I struggled for the specific configuration in this case. I relaxed, shut down my plodding mind, and let the muscle memory take over. As if by magic, my fingers signed a word independent of my thoughts.

  Respingere.

  What remained of the shielding around me drew in and detonated with a pop. Though short of maximum strength, it was enough to surprise Koalemos. He staggered back, his foot releasing my throat.

  Air rushed into my lungs, and blood to my head. Brainpower too. I reached a hand toward my sword, snagging it with a shouted Word. The hilt met my outstretched hand as Koalemos stepped back in. With his foot descending, I drove my blade up the front of his shirt.

  “Disfare!” I shouted.

  The blast scattered the necklace’s energy, and Koalemos collapsed, bare-chested, to the ground. The Baja hoodie, along with the beaded necklace known as a chaplet, came off his head and hung from the end of my blade.

  “Come, take a chaplet,” the Greek playwright Aristophanes had written, “offer a libation to Koalemos, the god of stupidity, and take care to fight vigorously.”

  I removed the chaplet from the blade and held it up to the others—my declaration of victory.

  Hermes clapped enthusiastically and leapt down from the fence, while the rest of the Greek beings skulked and pouted.

  “Well done!” Hermes exclaimed, arriving beside me.

  “Thanks,” I said, pride inflating my chest despite my conflicted feelings about the contest.