Deadly Serious, Sian Webster [finding audrey .TXT] 📗

and looked down.
“When she found out she was having you… she was ecstatic, Phoebe. It was her idea to call you Phoebe, you know. It’s a Greek name, and her family was Greek, if I remember properly. She said that in Ancient Greek mythology, the name Phoebe was a reference to the Greek god, Phoebus Apollo – or something like that – who was the god of light.”
My eyes widened; he may not have realised it at the time; but he just gave me the proof I was looking for. She was Greek? She wanted to give me a Greek name that was a reference to the god of light? When she was married to the darkest god there was… I wondered if she was trying to protect me by doing that.
Dad didn’t notice a thing and continued talking. “She said that maybe if she named you after the god of light, then hopefully you wouldn’t go astray and get yourself into trouble at school, or go out drinking every weekend like normal kids do. She said it might protect you. She also said it might help protect her, but I never understood why anyone would want to hurt her in the first place; she was the loveliest woman alive.”
“Dad, I only have one friend, so I don’t get invited to those types of parties. And even if I did, I wouldn’t wanna go anyway.” I explained.
He smiled and gave me another one of his awkward one-armed hugs. “She’d be proud of you Phoebe. I know she would.”
“Why?” I whined. “I have dyslexia. Not to mention the ADHD.”
“So did she,” Dad started. “She hated it too. But I remember, when she went in to labour with you, she told me one thing. She told me to tell you that if you took after her, to tell you that one day you’ll realise that your dyslexia and ADHD were gifts rather than curses. She said that no matter how hard it gets, things will get better, and that she’d always be watching you.”
I wiped away a tear off my cheek. I hadn’t even noticed I had been crying.
“Don’t cry honey,” Dad said, leaving whatever he was cooking on the stove to walk over and put his arm around my shoulders. “She’s proud of you, ok? And she’s with you every day. In here.” He told me, pointing to my heart.
I nodded. “I know,”
He smiled. “Do you want anything or did you eat at Patrick’s?”
“Nah, I’m good; Patch’s Mum made us her homemade lasagne.” I lied.
Dad licked his lips. “Save me some next time,”
“I’ll try,” I told him, smiling, before making my way up the stairs to my bedroom.
“Don’t stay up too late!” He called out. “You still have one day left of school for the year!”
“I won’t!” I yelled back. At the time, I believed that I would be going to school the next day. How wrong I was.
***
Later that evening, I sat on my bed with my laptop on my lap, taking in and studying everything about Greek mythology I could find. I was writing it all down in a spare school book I had; writing things helped me remember things. I wondered what my Dad would think if he found this book. He’d probably send me to a mental institution. Why? I was writing it in Ancient Greek. Since Patch and I had discovered I could read the language, studying had become a lot easier. All I had to do was copy and paste everything into Google translate and translate it to Ancient Greek and then I could read it fine.
A cool breeze flew in from my window and I could faintly smell some sort of wine. I couldn’t hear any loud music, but I supposed someone must have been having a party or some type of get together. I was studying my supposed half-brother, Dionysus, when someone spoke.
“‘The drunken wine dude’?” The voice said exasperatedly. “‘The drunken wine dude’? You should really watch your mouth, little Phoebe. You’re meant to be sailing under the radar, and insulting a god does not keep you under the radar.”
I looked up in shock. There, standing in my bedroom, was Dionysus himself.
“Uhh…” I seemed unable to form a sentence. “Sorry?”
“Oh yes, how rude of me.” He shook his head. “I never introduced myself. I am—”
“Dionysus,” I finished for him, “God of wine, theatre and ecstasy.”
He nodded. “Of course, there’s also grapevines, madness and a few others to add to that list, but I do admit, that’s a lot better than ‘the drunken wine dude’.”
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“It is not in my best interests to punish you for what you said when you thought you were an ignorant mortal like all the rest. But you are a demigod, nonetheless. Heed my warning, Phoebe; do not insult gods unless you are prepared to face the consequences.” He told me.
“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” I said quickly.
“So,” He smirked. “You’re my half-sister that our neighbour downstairs is gonna be pissed off about when he finds you.”
“Our neighbour downstairs?” I asked in perplexity.
“Mother’s evil husband.” He explained. “When you say a god’s name they have a habit on listening to your conversation. Which is how I knew you called me ‘the drunken wine dude’.”
“Oh.” I mumbled. “So my real mother knew I was talking about her with Patch?”
“Possibly.”
“Oh my god, is Patch even allowed to know about me?!” I asked, suddenly worried. “Would he get in trouble?”
“Patch has the sight, which means he can see all of the mythological creatures properly. His mind may not make sense of it, but he can see all that you can see. For mortals without the sight, all mythological creatures from our world are obscured by what we call “The Mist”. A type of glamour, if you will. It just hides all the things that their minds would be unable to comprehend. So I don’t see any problem with your boyfriend knowing about you, no.” Dionysus told me.
“He’s not my boyfriend.” I said sharply.
“Oh, sorry, common mistake. I’m not Aphrodite, obviously. You want to know your true love? Ask her. Me? I couldn’t even tell you who you’d have a drunken one night stand with.” He babbled.
“Ok, you can stop talking now.” I said, covering my ears.
He raised an eyebrow. “Do humans not teach their young ones to respect their elders? If not you must start doing so now more than ever. Gods are incredibly easy to offend, and you cannot disrespect them.”
“I’m sorry!” I said, probably for the millionth time.
“Do not worry, sister, I’m not about to turn you into a bunch of grape vines. Would be such a waste to do that with all the trouble Persephone went through to save you.”
“Without being disrespectful or anything, but what are you really doing here, Dionysus? Shouldn’t you be at Mount Olympus supplying the Olympians with wine or something?” I asked sceptically.
“Alas, my fellow Olympians are fully unaware of my visiting you. I am simply here to warn you that things are about to change for you drastically. Now you know who you are, you will be in constant danger. Do not talk about your heritage with Patrick in public places where you can be over-heard. Monsters go to great lengths to disguise themselves from demigods. Never let your guard down, or you will not live until the Fates choose your time, and will probably spend the rest of eternity in Tartarus for cheating death, even if you were unaware at the time. Be careful, little sister. Don’t trust anyone.”
And with that, he was gone.
Imprint

Text: Sian Webster
Images: Sian Webster
Publication Date: 12-10-2012

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
To Zoe, for being my greek mythology buddy